Tasting Darkness

Chapter 3

        
        


                                      

                                      
                                      

                                      

                                      
                                      

                                    

Chapter 3

They could kill me, and I felt like they genuinely wanted to crush me like a bug beneath their shoes. I have never felt so small in all my life.






“Six years, Aleera, six fucking years, and you have the guts to ask for our help. We should have let them fucking kill you. Have you even got magic left because I can’t feel it?” One of them screamed at me.

I have feared no one more than my mates. I knew who they were and what they had done. Now I was second-guessing my decision to call on them.






One of them grasped my hair, my head ripped back, forcing me to stare at the eyes of the one I feared most. Darius Wraith. His name is constantly in the media; nobody in the world feared anyone more than they did Darius Wraith.

And to think he is one of my mates, not that the three others have stellar reputations. No, they were just as dark and twisted as he was. I never understood how I could be fated to be theirs; they were pure dark magic while mine was not like theirs, mine was, well I wasn’t exactly sure, but it is both, yet I felt the urge more to my pure white magic more, it made no sense why the fates punished me this way.







their hands would be the worst. They didn’t need more power, especially Darius. He is a Demonic-Fae, and they’re the strongest of the Fae. He, too, like myself, was the last of






of his. What were the odds, two dying species fated to each other as if we should create a more incredible

hand, trying to free his tight grip. He yanks my head back harder by my hair, and I cry out, my hair ripping painfully






fate with them would be worse. Darius laughs at my pleading, but he lets go, shoving me back to the ground. His presence was

could have come for you when you were thirteen, but we didn’t, and still, you ran from us. We are your

no brain to mouth filter. I instantly regret the words I never intended to speak

wanting to repeat myself, knowing that would be a mistake when someone suddenly nudges me from behind. His foot connected with my thigh hard,

his voice velvety smooth, but the

back painfully at an odd angle, and I saw the man behind me. His dark hair falls into his green snake eyes when he glares at me. If he weren’t so homicidal looking, I would say he was hot, but the look of rage on his face made me want

smile, and by the look in his eyes, he heard what I said. I say it, and chances are they may leave

that I cry when I’m angry. I also cry when happy and sad too. I just suck when it comes to emotion. Emotion to me is like squirting onion juice in your eye. I guess that’s me, an onion girl, has a

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