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381 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2016
"The feel of his skin on hers resonated through her body like she was a vessel for nature itself."
"Those of the so-called "better" fae court were what was traditionally called "sun-burnished"
"The Queen of Blood and Rage sat on a throne inside her small throne room. The throne in this room was nothing more than wood and vine."
"The articles she'd read all explained that fae-blood were typically associated with one element. Those of purer fae lines had a second. True fae had two or sometimes more. Nothing explained why she had four, and she'd never met another fae-blood she could ask."
“I like knowing that my heart has found its home.”
"In the next moment, a scream began and ended. One of the queen’s various blades sliced across the girl’s throat. Between one breath and the next, she was dead.”
“I can't do this,” she said after several tense moments. (...) “Be my friend, Creed.”
“Don't say you aren't feeling the same things I am.” (...) Creed's arm snaked around her waist, holding her to him. (...) “You're my deadly girl, and I'm yours whether you want me or not.”
Erik was there, of course, but for Lily’s seventeenth birthday celebration, Daidí had invited all of his associates’ children, and he’d hired her favorite singer. It was perfect on paper, but Lily didn’t mingle with people her own age.
The one exception was her friend, Erik. They’d shared a few kisses now and again, but under threat of retribution if any word of it was spoken.
Daidí knew, of course, as did Shayla, but they also understood that Erik didn’t occupy her heart. Instead, she fantasized about Creed Morrison and Zephyr Waters—celebrity darlings she suspected of sharing her same hidden, and illegal, heritage.
Lily thought through the Abernathy Commandments until she found her answer:Commandment #9: Be kind to those who deserve it.
She straightened her shoulders and sailed through the crowd—until Creed Morrison stepped into her path, stopping her advance, leaving her uneasy in a way no one ever had.
Creed had the beautiful dark complexion of the Seelie fae. The fae long thought to be both kinder and better were those whose skin was sun-burnished. Creed’s skin had the telltale signs of fae heritage, but Creed’s human father was African American, so Creed had an explanation for his Seelie-dark skin. Lily shared his heritage, but she had less chance of exposure for her heritage because she’d inherited her father’s pale skin instead of her mother’s dark skin.
Creed was watching her with an utterly inappropriate intensity. If her father saw, he’d toss Creed out the door, despite the obscene sum he’d probably paid for his presence. Lily felt like her skin was electrified everywhere his gaze fell. She’d felt a tingle of recognition a few times when she’d seen other fae-bloods, but not like this. Nothing had ever felt like this.
“Incidentally, flattering me is pointless. The sons of Daidí’s associates all try it to curry favor with him. I’m immune to praise.”
The feel of his skin on hers resonated through her body like she was a vessel for nature itself.
“Impure water burns your throat. The wrong soap makes your skin blister . . . and alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, they all affect you so much more than they do other people, non-fae people.”
Soon, his colleagues would come and give her gifts. Shayla would arrive and catalogue them, and Daidí would nod approvingly.
As Creed started the opening chords to “Deadly Girl,” his eyes were fixed steadfastly on her and her father. She could feel his words like a lure.
Air. Creed Morrison’s affinity was air.
The articles she’d read all explained that fae-blood were typically associated with one element. Those of purer fae lines had a second. True fae had two or sometimes three.Nothing explained why she had four, and she’d never met another fae-blood she could ask.
After Creed’s second song
The Gaviria cartel was Daidí’s strongest ally, and as such, they were always first in line to offer felicitations. Their cartel was not a new organization like so many today. They had a history stretching back before the early 2000s, before the war, before the guerrilla attacks by the Queen of Blood and Rage’s terrorists, back when this continent was called North America.