Page 59 of Accidental Fae (Fae War Chronicles 1)

Now, he lifts his gaze to me. “You cannot even begin to imagine what you being down here is doing to me.” His eyes, darker now, are hard to read, his expression contorted to something akin to annoyance? Perhaps anger? “I don’t even understand it.”

“Seriously? You barely speak to me! What could I have possibly done to bother you?”

Rafferty takes a step toward me. Then another. I back away and swallow hard. His intense gaze is something I’ve never seen on his face. He looks more animal than man—a darker version of himself—and it’s terrifying.

“Rafferty?”

“My name on your lips is sweet torture,” he growls. The cool stone presses into my back, and I’m stopped in place. “Cool, cool torture,” he whispers.

“If you’re trying to scare me—”

“You? Never.” He reaches out to touch me, and I whimper.

“Rafferty, what the hell is going on?”

He moves in toward me more, so I reach out and slam both hands into his chest. He stumbles back a step then glares at me. “You are no match for me,” he snarls, baring teeth.

I reach up and slap him. The resounding crack echoes along the walls until Rafferty blinks rapidly, his eyes clearing. “What—”

“Back the hell off, Rafferty. Or next, it will be your balls.”

“What are you—” He stares down at his hands then backs clear away, not stopping until he’s on the other side. Then, he lifts the blade and, to my complete horror, runs it down his forearm, slicing it clean open.

“Rafferty! What the hell are you doing?” I scream and run forward as he sinks to the ground. I reach for him, but he shakes his head.

“No. Leave it.”

Then, I turn my attention to the wound. I’ve seen a lot of blood recently—an unfortunately horrible turn of events—which is why I notice the shade of the blood coming from his arm is off.

Where it should have been a bright red, it’s a dark crimson; far darker than I would have expected.

I move in close enough to see his expression relax, but far enough that if he gets any ideas I have a chance to get a knee up. “What is that?”

“Dark magic,” he replies.

“Dark magic? Why is there dark magic coming out of your arm?”

“My sister was sold to a dark fae,” he explains. “I hunted him down and killed him, inadvertently absorbing his soul-matter.”

“Soul-matter? What the hell is that?” My gaze shifts from his face, back to his arm, then up to his face again. Could my life get any more complicated?

“Dark fae exist only in the Veil unless they are freed. My mate freed him, so I killed him. Their soul-matter can be absorbed by a light fae, but it alters us, changing our magic, polluting our blood. At first, I needed to open a vein once every new moon, shortly before the Rebellion fell, though, it was once every couple of days.”

“What happens when you don’t?”

Rafferty’s gaze levels on me. “You just saw it.”

“So you turn into an asshole?”

He chuckles darkly, “Something like that. It gets harder to control.”

“And if you can’t control it?”

“I will become worse than anything you could ever imagine. Dark fae are unpredictable. They are driven by their desire for power—for chaos. Embracing it, while I would be able to free myself instantly, would require a sacrifice I cannot make.”

“You could free yourself?”

“I could. Once I’m away from the iron. But as I said, it would be far more dangerous.”