Page 4 of The Wild Hunt (Sold to the Fae Duet #1)

I slip on the slippers that await me by the door, then take a seat on the edge of my bed. My legs don’t stop bouncing, swinging, and twitching as I wait impatiently for the 10 minutes to be up. I’ve never been known to be patient, that’s for sure.

The sound of my door unlocking has me jumping to my feet.

The door opens, and a slim and gangly boy in an army uniform takes a single step inside.

The cadet has clusters of red and inflamed pustules over both cheeks and forehead that were just begging to burst. My stomach curdles at the thought, and I hastily look away from his pimples and try to focus on the rest of him. He looks straight out of high school.

He clears his throat, his abnormally large Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement.

“Hello, Chosen,” he says, his voice breaking, and I can’t help but cringe in embarrassment for him.

“I am one of the soldiers assigned to monitoring Floor 12 of Building 1. As this is your first meal period, I will escort you personally, but you will need to memorize the way for future meals. If you deviate from the path at any stage, you will be severely punished and confined to your room for the remaining duration of your stay at Hotel F. Do you have any questions?”

Too many. Do you cleanse your face? Because you seriously need to follow a regular skin care regimen and stick to it. How old are you? You look like you should be in school chasing teenage girls, because, let’s face it, those zits are horrifying.

I force myself to smile, which sure as shit looks as phony as it feels.

“What’s your name?” I ask. I don’t fucking care what his name is.

He shuffles uncomfortably and his pimply cheeks redden impossibly more.

“Chosen may not know the names of the soldiers. Please, follow me.”

He turns and disappears.

Well, shit. I hastily make my way outside the room and look down the hall. His long legs are traveling fast, so I jog to catch up, noting another soldier standing still as a statue by the far wall. I look over my shoulder, and sure enough, another stands at the one behind me.

Pimple Face turns down a corridor before we reach the soldier ahead of us. I catch his eye and send him a twinkle-fingered wave just for the hell of it. He quickly averts his gaze, as if burned or caught doing something forbidden.

We take another turn and face a set of swinging double doors with windows in the upper halves. Two more soldiers stand on either side of them. When they see us approaching, they nod at Sir Pimpleton .

Pimple face stops suddenly, and I quickly make my own feet stop before I walk straight into him and get pimple juice all over me. Gross. My imagination was not doing any favors to my already queasy stomach.

“This is the dining hall. From now on, you must find your way here and back to your room for every meal. Anyone remaining in or out of their rooms outside of the allocated time frame will be punished and confine- “

“Confined to my room for the rest of my stay,” I cut in sweetly. “Understood.” I stand to attention and give him a salute and a wink, to which he immediately blushes.

He nods, turns, and walks away.

“Uh, excuse me…?” I stop him, realizing something. “I, uh, didn’t happen to take note of my room number…” I trail off, hoping he will catch on.

He does.

“Room 1229,” he says simply, before turning back around and marching away. Good, maybe my appetite will return now that I don’t have to look at all those pimples.

I turn back to the double doors, ignoring the stationed soldiers as they ignore me. I don’t bother scouting the room through the window. No point in delaying the inevitable, and, besides, surveying from the outside seemed weak.

So, I straighten my spine and push the doors open.

The buzz of many conversations in a small area reaches my ears as I step through and let the door close behind me. I pause as I take it in.

Statistically speaking, each floor should hold fifty women. There’s maybe half that here. I frown before remembering that the lottery drawing hasn’t happened yet. These women were like me. Someone had sold them too.

Conversation stutters as the ladies turn to take me in.

“Ah, another one?” A woman on the larger side of the scales with a short buzz-cut and tattoos decorating both arms from shoulder to fingertips, calls. “Who’d you piss off?”

The women in her little posse laugh with her, and I cringe. This was just like high school all over again, and they were the jocks. To-cool-for-school-bullies.

The other small groups of women get back to their conversations, completely ignoring me now that they have had their take of me.

A petite and young Asian woman gets up from her small group and comes towards me. She wears her thin black hair in a neat bob at her shoulders, with an overgrown fringe pushed to the sides.

“Hello,” she says. She smiles warmly at me, and I can’t help but smile back. She is one of those people you can’t help but adore. Which could be conflicting in the long run, considering where we are headed. “My name is Akari. What’s yours?”

“I’m Delta,” I reply.

Akari reaches out her hands and I instantly place mine in them. They are small and cold, but she has a firm grip as she squeezes mine.

“Delta. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” I can’t help but blush at her analysis. “Come, let me show you where to collect a tray of food.”

She keeps one of my hands as she leads me toward a buffet. It’s on the smaller side, but I’ve never been one to complain about a freaking buffet, though I am devastated I had missed breakfast. What better way to start the day than by guiltlessly overindulging on bacon and eggs?

Akari follows at my shoulder as I choose to make a sandwich from the salad bar and fresh meat collection. The dessert selection is disappointing, what with the jelly cups, custards, and variety of biscuits.

“Don’t worry,” Akari says, “the real desserts come out at dinner time.” She winks.

“Thank God,” I groan. “I would die if all the desserts I ever got to choose from again were jelly and custard.”

Akari laughs, and I help myself to both jelly and custard. I’m fucking starving. And if I’m heading to Faerie, I no longer need to worry about keeping my body thin and firm.

Akari grabs a bottle of water from the fridge for me, and we make our way over to Akari’s small friendship circle.

The two women look up as we approach, wearing friendly and curious smiles.

“Delta, this is Jasmin and Jabira.”

Jasmin is young; she couldn’t possibly be out of high school. She has blonde hair, which she has tied into a neat ponytail, and a creamy complexion. Her heart-shaped face is honest, yet I’m picking up a certain shyness as I spy a pink blush creeping along her fair cheeks.

Jabira is a contrasting opposite. Her rich, dark skin is as beautiful as the mop of tight curls that frame her face.

She’s strongly built and has known a life of hardship, if the muscular arms and calloused hands were anything to go by.

She was older than the rest of us and had an air of maturity to her .

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all, though the circumstances are shit,” I say as I plop myself down next to Akari. The girls laugh, though a little sadly. “Where are you all from?”

“I am from Khaya La Bantu,” Jabira says in a strong accent. Her voice is robust, throaty, and oddly attractive. “We are a cultural village in South Africa. I was a dancer and made beaded jewelry during the tourist seasons.”

“And during the down season?” I ask through a mouthful of my sandwich, completely lost in my curiosity about the vastly different cultures we come from.

Jabira’s shoulders sag slightly, and I think I’ve asked the wrong question. But she regains her composure quickly.

“We all helped around the village, collecting water, schooling the children, preparing meals, and the like. My husband…” she trails off, looking sad.

“He was never the same after our daughter died. He wanted to start afresh in the city. We had no money, though. So he sold me. I agreed it was for the best. Our son is nearing manhood. He deserves to have advantages that my husband and I did not.”

My heart sinks at her revelation. Not only had she been a mother and a wife, she had also lost a child. I couldn’t even imagine the pain she must be in.

I reach for the hand she rests on the table. She grips mine even as I grip hers. Our eyes meet, and she smiles and nods, accepting the comfort I am trying to give.

After a moment of silence, Akari speaks up .

“I am from Tokyo, Japan,” she says, and I turn to hear her story, not letting my grip on Jabira loosen.

“My parents are both CEOs of separate organizations. I have an older brother who is following strongly in their footsteps. I, however, have always been a bit of a disappointment to them.” Her seemingly always bright face darkens as her sadness attempts to steal the show.

“My grades were never perfect. I wasn’t top of the class.

The final straw was… well, I came clean to them about my sexuality.

I’m about to… or was about to… start college.

My girlfriend and I were moving in together, finally.

We have been together secretly for years.

Coming out to her parents was a breeze. But being a lesbian was an enormous burden to my parents.

It caused them great shame. I guess this is their retribution.

They don’t need the money. They just wanted me to be important to the family name.

I’ll be grieved as a Chosen instead of a lesbian. In their eyes, they’ve only won.”

I can’t help but pull Akari into my arms as a tear slides down her face. She leans in and takes what little comfort I can give before pulling back and smiling at me.

Jasmin takes a deep breath before starting her story.

“I’m from LA. My parents both died a few years ago.

My older sister has been caring for me as well as she can.

She has sacrificed so much. I hate that she had to give up on her dreams to look after me.

So I… volunteered. The money they were offering will give Jackie the jump start she needs.

She can live her dream now. And I will no longer be her burden. ”

Jasmin cries in earnest. Jabira quickly gathers Jasmin into a warm, motherly embrace and holds her tight. I can’t hear what she whispers in Jasmin’s ear, but eventually her sobs weaken and she raises her head to give us all an apologetic smile before turning an expectant look towards me.

Right, it’s my turn. Where do I even start?

“Well, I’m a New Yorker, myself. And I’m still trying to figure out how I got here.

I mean, I guess my dad sold me. It’s the only logical explanation.

He kept going on about how the money was going to give him a fresh start.

” I snort. “He’s too thick into the gambling and drink to get out of it again.

In less than a month, the cash will be gone, leaving him just as lost as before.

I hope the image of me being dragged away from him haunts him forever.

He doesn’t fucking deserve a clean break. ”

The girls raise their eyebrows at my vehemence, but Jabira and Akari’s eyes tell me they feel it too. The anger. The resentment. The despair. Jasmin certainly feels the last, but her self-sacrifice is so damn honorable.

Ding, ding, dong.

I wince as the overly happy robot Karen announces that lunch period will be over in five minutes.

I quickly shovel down the rest of my sandwich, disappointed I hadn’t gotten to my jelly and custard in time.

“They’ll let you take the dessert back to your room,” Akari says after her humor at my ravenous demolishing of the sandwich seeps away. “You just can’t take cutlery.”

We both wince. Was I willing to eat jelly and custard with just my fingers? Abso-fucking-lutely. But damn, it was going to get messy.

“And the water bottle?” I mumble through my still-full mouth.

“Yes, water is fine to take, also,” Jabira says .

I smile and nod in thanks, finally swallowing my mouthful.

I frown, then.

“When is the lottery due to be drawn?”

I was pretty sure I’d only been unconscious for one night; therefore, the lottery would be drawn tomorrow.

“Tonight,” Jasmin says, and my stomach instantly sours. I had been unconscious for almost 36 hours. Jasmin smiles sadly, rising from her seat as the stupid bell rings again. Lunch is over. “The Hotel will be full in 48 hours from now.”