again I have my body. The shadows fog my mind, trying to keep me locked away, but I fight them. I am their master, not Drogaem. I am Death. He is a soul clinging to a time that has long since passed. My feet ache with the force in which I push forward. Muscles burning and lungs straining to pull air in, I make it to the front. I know the pain in my body is not real, for I have no body to feel. It is an illusion created by my own conscious.

I break through the darkness like I broke through the surface of the water after I fought the Leviathan. My eyes adjust to the blinding light of the world beyond my mind. I see Briar turn to look at a young boy running toward the port village. My arms lift suddenly. The shadow blade shoots out of my hand and I see the child clutch his chest in perfect clarity. I call out, but my lips curl into a smile. Drogaem is letting me see through my own eyes. He is torturing me with the vile acts he is using my body to perform. He is tainting me with every breath.

He is keeping me still and making me watch the young boy die by my own hands. Never have I taken the life of a child. My reapers collect the souls and I rule over the underworld, protecting the souls that call this realm home, to the best of my abilities. Killing that boy is not my way. These are not my actions. I see Briar as she turns her back once more and rides away from the decimated village. She is in pain.

It isn’t the sort of pain that appears on her face, but one I can sense in her soul. It’s a pain that dives deep into the very core of me. Something about it makes me stronger, but not strong enough. Drogaem forces me back into the corner where my thoughts are not clear. My hands scramble upon the wall as I call out to Briar.

Drogaem appears in front of me, wearing my skin and smiling like a cat who caught their prey. “She’ll come around to my way of doing things.”

I snarl and grow, yelling out at him. “Briar isn’t like you....”

“I’ve seen how easily she gets emotional. They taste so sweet. I think she misses you, Kane. She admires you greatly. Well, at least she did.” His laughter haunts me.

I thrust out my arm and point at him angrily. “They won’t let you get away with this. Someone will stop you.”

Drogaem moves to stand in front of me. He kneels down and grips my chin. My skin burns where he touches me. I close my eyes and fight to remind myself that this pain is not real. It isn’t physical, but a manifestation of Drogaem’s cruelty. “There won’t be anyone left alive to stop me, Kane. Give up these foolish notions. If you behave, I might let you out to play every once in a while. After all, I must keep up appearances until the correct moment presents itself.”

My eyes shift to his. “What do you mean?”

A cruel smiles pulls at his lips. “The realms will burn beneath my wrath. Those who rise from the ashes shall have a place at my side. Anyone who doesn’t gets fed to my Nephilim.”

The image of the imposter in my skin fades away. I jump to my feet, feeling dizzy and disoriented. My own manifestation of a body falls back against a wall I cannot see, only touch. Slowly I slide down and close my eyes. I wade through an endless vat of darkness, straining to feel Briar through our connection. She cannot hear me. And I’m not sure how much longer I can resist this power...

The story continues in Book 4 in the Captive of Shadows Series . . . Coming Soon!

About the Author

Bailey Dark is obsessed with all things dark, hot, and supernatural. From Fae to Aliens, her heroes are thoroughly alpha and pure raw masculinity. When she’s not writing (which is hardly ever) she’s busy watching every movie in the marvel universe, or binging supernatural on her couch. So come along, and enter her dark world. . . .

https://www.baileydarkromance.com/

FREE Preview - Stolen by the Fae King

Chapter One

Altair

The purple hue of the dusky sky is fringed with orange. The sun is rising, though the daylight hasn’t yet driven out the night. The stars are still visible, winking above the city and the palace. From the roofless tower, I can hear my people below. The sounds of the city echo towards me, reaching high into the sky. Music and laughter. Laughter that will soon fall silent forever.

I narrow my eyes, staring angrily towards the mountain range in the distance. I can almost see Maaz and her Bloodbane witches soaring over the mountain peaks on their deadwood brooms. But it’s only a flock of birds.

I’m running out of time. The night is disappearing, and the days are passing too quickly. I relish the night. Every morning, as dawn approaches, I can’t escape the memory of the day Maaz cursed me. Cursed me to become the beast she saw when I refused her. I close my eyes, envisioning the moment.

Maaz, dressed in the blood-red gown slinked into my throne room as if it were hers already. She had dragged her long, black fingernails across my throat and down my chest, grinning.

I will never forget that grin. Cursed, she had said. Cursed for a thousand years or until I find a Bloodbane witch to break the spell and bind herself to me willingly. Cursed to die, along with all of my people, at the end of the thousand years.

And time is running short.

My stomach twists as Maaz’s cruel smirk flashes through my mind again. The wind caresses my cheek, and I open my eyes to stare down at my city once more.

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