Night of the Dark Fae (Omnibus)

Maeve grunted and spun to face whoever had whipped her. Blood boiled under her skin and the familiar haze of battle lust rushed over her, dulling all pain while she fought.
The fae with the whip was too far away for her to strike. He leered, showing off a row of crooked yellow teeth. He was a slim creature, tall and skinny, who looked as though his bones would snap in half if stepped on. Unfortunately, she was familiar with him and knew he would bend, not break, if she fought him.

The prisoners called him Nathair, the snake. His head was shaped like an adder’s—flat, with gleaming yellow eyes that were more reptilian than fae. The row of yellow teeth in his mouth were sharp and pointy, and when his mouth was closed, the tips of his fangs hung out, completing his sinister look. Despite his scrawny appearance, he was fast and his whip acted as an extension of his arms.

He lashed out again, and this time the whip curled around Maeve’s arm that held the keys. The teeth of the whip sank into her skin. Her eyes narrowed, and she charged Nathair, determined not to release her chance at freedom.
The whip fell away, leaving angry red welts crisscrossing up her arm. Her free hand curled into a fist and she leaped into the air, drawing back her hand for maximum impact. The air gave her strength, but as she followed through with the strike, Nathair vanished.


A sinking sensation twisted through Maeve, but she was already airborne. She’d forgotten who she was fighting against and had failed to consider the tricks of the fae—namely, the ability to slip into the shadow world and reappear wherever they liked. Instantly.
 A hand tipped her foot, and instead of flying, she crashed. She closed her eyes right before the impact and landed on her face.

There was a snap and searing agony ripped through her nose as it broke. Warm liquid pooled from her face and her ears rang.

She felt, rather than heard, the keys come free from her fingers and slide across the stone passage.