Death Sentence (Excerpt only)

Prologue: The Slave

DEATH SENTENCE

By Adriana Weaver

Copyright © 2014 Adriana Weaver. All Rights Reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form whatsoever in any country without the express permission of the author.

Death Sentence

Prologue: The Slave

"Hurry up, slave."

A firm hand shoved me forward so that I lost my balance, staggering over the threshold into the bedroom. The stone-like door slammed shut with a reverberating echo, vibrating all the way to my bones. At first glance, my heart flew to my throat as panic clawed into me. I took in the man standing just at the foot of the bed, and I knew that familiar gleam in his eyes, the heated way his gaze rove over my body, from head to toe. His unnatural violet eyes, which were set into a deceptively beautiful face, were enough to flood me with dread. His fair skin was covered in golden marks, a swirling of elaborate patterns wrapping his lean muscled arms and climbing up his neck. They were akin to tattoos, but they were something more than that, I knew. Those patterns seemed to pulsate with life, glinting when the lighting caught his skin at certain angles.

He wasn't human―he was a faery.

Everything you've probably ever heard about faeries was wrong. Although as beautiful and alluring as angels―most of them, anyway―they were as deceptive and cruel as devils. They thrived on pain and death.

And me? Well, I was a faeling. I was half human, half faery. We, faelings, weren't considered as important as the purebred faery. We were at the bottom of the fae population, no better than animals. I was a slave.

"You look delectable..." he said, a purr practically resonating in his voice. I shuddered with revulsion. I knew what he wanted. He was one of my regulars; he was one of the violent ones. Some of the fae I was forced to cater to were gentle with me if I cooperated, but there were a few others who deliberately inflicted pain on me. It gave them a sick thrill, I supposed. And this faery was one of them. He looked like he couldn't be more than twenty-four, but I knew he had to be centuries old.

Circling me, much like a predatory wild animal, I felt him drink me in. "You're all mine tonight, pet." He stopped behind me, reaching over to lift my loose straight hair from my neck, tentatively shoving it aside. His mouth was on the column of my neck, and when he pushed the strap of my sheer nightgown down, a numbness settled over me.

There was a time when I'd been human. I was tricked and changed against my will. It felt like a lifetime ago. My will was not my own. My feelings didn't matter. As long as I belonged to the fae, I wasn't considered a person. I was not Sari Monroe―I was their puppet, their pet, their property.

I let this fiend do what he wanted to me because there was no choice. Shutting myself off from where I was, I imagined my old life, when I had once been safe and loved. I could barely feel his fingers skittering across my skin, or the bruises and scratches he proceeded to leave on me. I took it like a big girl. The words he called me were degrading, but they floated in one ear and out the other as I allowed my numb state to overcome me. To embrace me.

The fae would kill me if I rebelled. I'd been taken by the fae when I was fifteen, and two years had passed. They had murdered my parents and my baby sister. They had beat me into submission. They'd taken everything away from me.

So I had withdrawn into myself, the last sliver of my hope having been shattered. I sat back, clamped my mouth shut, and became an obedient pet for them. But now that I'd discovered their weakness, I could use it against them. Iron. Unlike them, being a faeling, iron wasn't fatal to me. It merely stung a little, but I could touch it without killing myself. At this point, I didn't care if it hurt, I would do anything to get away from this hell.

I wasn't going to let them use me anymore; vengeance was mine.

After all this time, I was going to fight back. They wouldn't know what hit them.

***

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