Page 7 of The Wild Hunt (Sold to the Fae Duet #1)

Breakfast is pushed through the slot beneath the door the following morning, followed by a large, lumpy package.

I ignore the package and force myself to eat.

I start with the fruit salad cup, savoring each slice of sweet and sometimes sour fruits.

I move on to my eggs and bacon on toast. They are soft-fried to perfection, and I lick every last yellow glob of it off the plate.

I down the orange juice that had just a few too many lumps of pulp than I liked.

But I savor it anyway. It may just be my last glass of fresh OJ.

I let my breakfast settle for five minutes as I stare at the package.

I take a deep breath and decide to hell with it, and yank the damn thing towards me.

Inside is a gauzy, cream-colored dress. I unfold it and hold it out in front of me.

It has inch-thin straps over the shoulders and looks to end a couple of inches above my knees. It’s also practically translucent.

A pair of ballet flats, also in cream, fall out of the package as I lift the dress.

I guess they expect Faerie to be clean and dirt-free because they seem to have a thing for dressing us in light colors that would easily stain.

I toss the dress onto my bed and head for the shower.

I wash my hair three times. Who knows when I will have the chance to shampoo again?

As I’m drying off, robot Karen announces our floor will disembark in half an hour.

My stomach drops, and I instantly need to pee.

I feel lightheaded and sick to my stomach, and the muscles in my legs no longer feel like they can hold my weight.

I drop to the cool tiles beneath me and curl into a ball.

I stayed that way for who knows how long, clutching my knees to my chest and rocking myself backwards and forwards, as if I were a baby and I was rocking myself to sleep.

And yet, I didn’t even know if I would ever sleep again. I could die today.

Eventually, I give myself a stern talking to and pull myself together.

I don’t know how much time has passed, so I dress quickly and tie my hair into a messy bun that was so not going to hold my hair in place for long.

I slip on the slippers and head back to the bathroom to look at myself for what could be the last time.

I was right about the dress. The thin material clings to my skin and is gauzy enough to see through.

The bra and underwear at least matched the dress in color.

My hair is coming loose already, and I decide to hell with it and pull the lackey free from my unruly nest and wrap it around my wrist instead.

My dark brown curls frame my pale, but determined, face.

I hear the lock at my door turn, and it opens.

I take a deep breath. It’s time.

“Let’s go,” a stern voice grumbles from the door, and I turn away from my reflection and head towards him. This guard is unfamiliar. He’s old and gray and has a bored look on his sunken face.

I follow him out into the hall and immediately turn toward Akari’s room. There are soldiers everywhere; at least two for every one of us, and I can’t see Akari anywhere.

“Let’s get a move on, Chosen!” my guard yells so close to me my eardrum practically bursts. “We have a schedule to adhere to! Move it! ”

The other girls around me are being treated as brutally as I am. The girl from the room across from me has her arm pinched in a painfully tight grip as her guard practically spits in her face.

“Oi!” I yell. The man turns his furious gaze on me. “Get your hands off her! Don’t you think we’ve been punished enough?”

His lips twist, but he relents his hold and pushes his girl forward as he turns away from me. He’s left an angry, red mark on her arm, and I had no doubt it would bruise.

I turn back to my guard before he can follow in his colleague’s cruel footsteps.

“I’m coming,” I tell him, bitterly.

He harrumphs but turns and leads the way, walking me straight past the elevator shaft.

I groan as we reach the next door. Looks like we are taking the stairs.

My guard leaves me as I walk through the doorway, as have all the others.

The stairwell is lined with its own company of military men.

I fall in line behind the girl from across the hall.

She is rubbing her arm and whimpering as she takes step after endless step down, down, down.

We are nearing the bottom when her foot misses a step, and she careens forward.

I grab her quickly as her hands plant on the shoulders of the girl in front of her.

Shit. That could have gotten ugly real quick. We all know how dominos works.

She turns and gives me a shaky smile. I give her a thin-lipped one in return. I don’t think I could fake a smile even if I wanted to. Not today.

When we reach ground level, we join a line of women who must have come from a different floor than us.

Most of the girls are resigned, with their heads down, and follow the queue blindly.

Others have wide, nervous eyes that dart every which way.

A few stand tall with looks of determination on their faces.

I hoped that’s how I looked, though the queasiness in my belly said otherwise.

My eyes are running along the line of girls when I spy someone who looks an awful lot like Waverly, but when my eyes dart back to where I had thought I’d spotted her, I don’t see her. It couldn’t have been her, anyway. She and Rihana were safely camping out of range. They were fine.

Our line slows as we head towards the open doorways that lead outside.

Purple-tinted light streams through the doors, and I hear a faint humming that makes my arm hair stand on end.

I rub my hands over them briskly to soothe them, but I have no such luck.

I notice some of the girls’ hair is also standing on end, which makes me move a hand to my head and hastily pat it down.

It accomplishes nothing. Yikes. I have never been so glad not to have a mirror around.

No one needs to know what an electrified version of themselves looks like.

I blink back the sun’s glare as I take my first steps outside in over a week. Has sunlight always been so bright?

It’s organized mayhem outside. A total contradiction upon themselves, but fitting as soldiers march here and there, officers yell, people rush, women cry, and…

Holy fuck, is that a fae ?!

It’s a stupid question because there is no doubt in my mind what the male was.

He towers over the men at his side, a full two heads taller by my rough estimate.

He’s wearing the solid black armor the fae are prone to wear, and the materials cling to every muscular groove.

I swallow quickly as my mouth waters. I am not attracted to this fae, or any, for that matter.

They were our kidnappers. Our jailers. Possibly our murderers.

My eyes rise past his shoulders to his sharp, handsome face.

His skin is pale, his hair snow white, and his eyes are a striking red.

Did the fae have albinos? Or was he a specific type of fae?

Hells, are there different types? The pamphlet, How to Distinguish Fae from Human , had predicted as much, so it could be true.

Some girls in the line whisper amongst themselves as they spot the male, too.

I keep quiet, following as the line progresses slowly toward the roiling portal.

My eyes keep straying back to the male, no matter how many times I turn away.

It’s as if he is magnetic, and I just can’t help but follow the pull.

I manage to dart my eyes away from him for a moment before I am irresistibly drawn back to him. And damn it all to hell, he’s staring right back at me.

I blink and stumble as our eyes lock. His eyes are like vortexes pulling me in, and I feel myself stepping out of line, but I have no control over my limbs. No thought to stop myself. Just his striking eyes drowning me in a cavern of rubies.

“Oi, you!” A barking, authoritative voice practically slaps me in the face.

The owner of the voice is a fat and stout officer with bushy eyebrows and a mustache that bordered on belonging to a certain historical figure who was rotting in Hell, as he rightfully deserved.

Just look at him, herding us to slaughter as guiltless as a nasty wasp. “Get back in line!”

I look around me, then, and realize I have taken two steps out of line as I had blindly followed the fae’s silent call.

I am completely mortified as I take in the cautious looks from the women behind me, the furious gaze of the officer, the serious expressions on the men at his side, and the satisfied smirk on the fae male’s face.

My lips turn up, and I bare my teeth animal-like at the male before stepping back into place. His smirk turns into a grin as he continues to watch me, but I firmly keep my head turned in the opposite direction until, finally, he is far behind and out of sight.

Except now I am closer to the portal. It looks hot and oily at the new angle our closeness to it has provided.

It flashes a brilliant white every time a Chosen walks through its greasy depths.

There are more fae this close to the portal.

These ones all wear helmets, but each was as tall and muscular as the red-eyed demon from earlier.

Soldiers from the human army form lines of two men deep on either side of us, automatic rifles held ready at their chests. There will be no escaping this close to the Crossing. Not that I had had any hope of it, anyway. I had completely resigned myself to my fate for many days now.

I crane my neck as we get ever closer to the portal, trying to spot a familiar face.

There .

“Akari!”

Akari spins around with wide, terrified eyes. There are only two girls in front of her. She will make the Crossing in seconds.

Her eyes are desperate as they find mine.

I smile, as big and strong and encouraging as possible.

“I’ll see you on the other side!” I promise .

Akira’s face breaks into a small, nervous smile, and she nods before being roughly turned around and pushed towards the portal.

Ice freezes in my veins as I watch her. She is so tiny and inconsequential compared to the portal. I see her shoulders rise and fall in a final deep breath, then she throws back her shoulders and walks with purpose towards the gurgling purple pool.

It swallows her in a brilliant white flash.

She’s gone. She’s in Faerie. And soon, I will be too.

I look back at the line in front of me. It moves at a steady pace, and every time I try to count how many women are before me, another two make the Crossing.

Before I know it, there are only three girls in front of me.

Two.

The girl ahead of me cries in earnest.

One.

A soldier pushes her, impatient with her slight delay, and her feet step quickly as she tries to catch herself before she falls palms-first towards the ground. She disappears before her hands can hit the dirt.

Zero.

I turn a glare at the impatient soldier.

He folds his arms across his chest and sneers at me, as if begging for me to try to make a run for it.

Instead, I blow him a kiss with my middle finger and step towards the boiling, hungry pool.

I can’t help but take a breath and hold it before I take the final step into its depths.

My skin prickles and, impossibly, I feel boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time.

My every hair stands on end, including my eyebrows, which is an awfully peculiar feeling.

With my next step, my vision turns white, and there is nothing and everything all at once.