The Fae King’s Curse
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Schlosser
All rights reserved.
This novel is for your enjoyment only and may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without permission from the author except for brief quotations in a book review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to locations or incidents are coincidental.
Due to language and sexual content, this book is intended for readers 18 and older.
Cover design: Book Cover Kingdom
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
Editing: Amy Q Editing
Proofreading: Deaton Author Services
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ABOUT THIS BOOK
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
EPILOGUE
OTHER BOOKS BY JAMIE SCHLOSSER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
To Amy Q. You’re an amazing alpha reader and editor, and a great friend. I couldn’t have done this without you.
Kirian and I were just twelve years old when I pulled him from the icy waters of the creek behind my house. As he looked in my direction with unseeing lavender eyes, I quickly realized our age was just about the only thing we had in common. He spoke with an accent, he had pointy ears, and he was so beautiful it made my heart ache. Oh, and he claimed to be a fae prince cursed by witches who stole his sight.
I thought he was crazy from hypothermia. Turns out, he wasn’t, and for some reason he keeps coming back. But a day in my world is a year in his. Every time I see him, he’s older. Wiser. Hotter.
Over the past six years, I’ve tried not to fall in love with him because the terms of the curse are clear: If he doesn’t wait for his fated mate in all ways, including an innocent (or not-so-innocent) kiss, he’ll be blind forever.
So when Kirian kisses me and pulls me through the portal to his realm, I make it my mission to do some damage control. It’d be a whole lot easier if he wasn’t determined to marry me… And if someone wasn’t trying to murder me every step of the way.
Quinn
12 Years Old
I sigh out a frustrated huff as I plop down on the dock. No fishing today. My pole sits pointlessly at my side, and I prop my head in my hands as I look out at the dripping branches and wet mud.
The big snow from last week has been melting, flooding the creek. Peeking through the wooden slats beneath me, I watch the rushing water that’s just a few inches away from my face. Any higher and I’d be sitting in it right now.
Oh, well. I’ve got about a dozen other things I can do out here.
Tilting my face toward the shining sun, I close my eyes and take the pair of marbles out of my overalls pocket. They’re smooth as I turn them in my palm. Round and round they go, occasionally clacking as they knock against each other.
It’s a soothing habit. The kids at school don’t understand why I do it. Then again, they don’t seem to understand me at all. Even when I try to fit in—wear the popular clothes, say the right things—they still make fun of me.
So I don’t try anymore.
Just as I open my eyes, I hear a shout. Frowning, I glance out at the woods on the other side of the creek. Left, right, behind me.
Nothing. I’m alone. Like always.
People say these woods are haunted. No one else is brave enough to come here. Rumors in town tell tales of ghosts, mysterious flashes of light, and strange sounds.
And yelling, like what I thought I heard.
I’m about to write it off as a bird when I see movement in the water.
I shoot up to my feet when I realize it’s a person. A kid. Caught in the powerful current, he’s coming straight for me.
“Oh, shit.” The cuss word slips from my mouth without thought. It’s exactly what my mom says when she realizes she forgot to switch the wet laundry to the dryer before it got musty.
When I see he’s going to miss the dock by a few feet, I think fast and grab my fishing pole. Lying flat on my stomach, I extend it out to the water. “Grab on!”
His hands grope wildly, and I think he’s going to miss it, but just as he’s about to rush past, his fingers close around the end.
“Don’t let go,” I say, holding tight to the plastic while scooting away from the edge.
If I get pulled in with him, we’re both toast. My parents have warned me many times about not getting in the creek when I’m alone, no matter how shallow it is. The only reason I’m allowed to come out here by myself is because I promised I wouldn’t. That, and the fact that they know they can’t keep me away. But seriously, what would be the point of owning twenty acres of nature if you’re never going to enjoy it?
The boy is close enough to the dock to reach it, but he doesn’t. I wonder if he’s in shock. It’s March in Wisconsin. The temperature of the water has to be forty degrees or lower.
“There’s a ladder in front of you. Right there, on the side,” I tell him, then nod encouragingly when his hand lands on the weathered wood. “Yeah. Climb up.”
I shed my jacket and my hat, ready to give it to the soaked kid. But as he rolls onto his back, panting and exhausted, I realize he’s not a little boy. He’s probably my age.
And so freaking beautiful.
It’s like time stops as I look at
