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Authors: Pippa DaCosta

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If he kept that up, I was going to ugly-cry all over his expensive coat. A soft smile curled his lips, nothing like the smiles he gave away for free. A nervousness settled behind that smile. It hadn’t been there before. A flicker of doubt clouded his eyes. I ached to kiss away that hesitation, to burn the doubt from his mind with a passion that both excited and terrified me. I wanted Reign in ways I hadn’t yet come to terms with, and couldn’t acknowledge, for both our sakes.

I settled my hands on his chest and rose up on my toes to kiss his cheek. Tingles danced across my lips. He stilled beneath my hands, already fighting himself. “Will it ever go away?” I asked, settling back on my feet.

“She’s a part of you, the same as the hound is a part of me.” He let go and lowered his hand, careful to step back. I felt that space between us grow beyond what I could see. The two men in my life couldn’t touch me. Andrews wanted to, but it’d destroy him to give in, and Reign, he feared the worst of me could summon the worst of him. He was right, we would be alone together. It would have to be enough. For now.

Blinking back tears, I backed away, needing that space between us, because if I got close again, hound be damned, I would kiss him, and rake my nails down his back, and eat him alive. “The queen’s gone, the fae are gone. I thought I could start a new life, but I’m not human, no matter what my head keeps telling me.”

“No.”

“I might burn out at any moment, right? I’m not designed to live for long, am I?”

“No,” he said again, softer this time.

“I stole Detective Andrews’s draíocht, Reign. At the dome. I was dying, and—”

“You gave your vestiges of life to me, turned me wild, and maybe even helped control the hound, at least enough for me to kill the queen. To live, you needed life. You’re lucky Andrews was there. He’s bought you more time. What you do with that time is up to you.” I sensed he wanted to say more and remember the words he’d spoken to me at the dome as I lay dying, promises of life and love. “You brought me back,” he said. “Thank you, for that.”

I took the thanks with a faint smile. “I wasn’t about to let you die. You don’t get to go out like that. Only the good die young, right? And, Sovereign, I don’t think you’re classified as good, or that young."

His smile bloomed, brightening his face and chasing away the severity in his eyes. “You’re beginning to know me, American Girl.”

“Andrews thinks he knows me. When I took his draíocht, I got inside his head. Among a lot of other things, I saw how he hates the fae. He’s not the only one.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best. There are aspects of the fae that should be destroyed.”

I’d feared as much. He’d said there were worse things out there besides the queen. “Will you tell me about the fae, and Faerie? All of it?”

“What are you going to do with the information?”

“Help get the truth out, I think. I’m not entirely sure yet. This whole being in charge of my own destiny thing is a lot to take in.”

“The reporter still wants her story, huh.” His smile softened. It was genuine, and real, like the impossible feelings I had for him.

I grinned. “What can I say? It’s in my DNA.”

“I’ll help you,” he resolutely agreed. “I can’t exactly go back to my day job.”

I held out my hand. “Deal.”

He curled his fingers around mine, sparking of familiar tingles. “Deal.”

Epilogue
Kael, the General

Their laws are laughable. Love isn’t the worst we can do. Their minds are pliable in our hands. We twist their dreams, distort their desires, make them ours. At least now they look upon us with deserved respect, albeit born of fear and suspicion.
Control the fae, no more free-roaming rights; no more positions of power.
We, the Fae Authority, agree to these conditions; they appear to need reassurance to keep the masses calm. Their contracts are as worthless as the paper they’re written on. We do not follow their laws, but we’ll pretend to … for now. The pitiful humans of this forgotten world cannot fathom the danger waiting in the dark, seeking the light. We’ve been buried too long. The death of the queen is proof enough. We cannot live among them, on their level. Such a notion is folly. This leaves only one solution. Rule them, as the gods we are. They will worship whether they want to or not. There is no choice for them to make.

We take their choices from them.

We own them.

Our time is now.

Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney

Copyright © 2015 by Pippa DaCosta

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means, (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

First published in May 2015

by Bloomsbury Spark, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.

www.bloomsbury.com

Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 4088 6872 0

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Cover design by Jenny Zemanek

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