The Beast of the Fae Court Read online

  When we were far enough away from Vignette, I threw his arm off of me. "Why did you have to say a thing like that?"

  "Think of it as payback for making me come down here in the first place. I had shows to watch that I am now missing because of you." Finch shrugged and crossed his arms, his gaze on the contestants.

  If Finch wasn't my oldest friend, I'd have him executed for speaking to me in such a manner, but besides being one of my only friends, my father always said you should have an adviser that wasn't afraid to tell you the truth even when it could make you want to kill them.

  Huffing a sigh, I turned my attention back to the competition. The redhead and her friend are glaring daggers at Ericka while the oblivious girl went about her prep work.

  "What do you think? Any of them decent?"

  Finch stroked his jaw and watched Ericka carefully. "The one who was late, the Burner woman."

  "What?" I scoffed in disbelief. "She's a train wreck. Even her name tells you how good of a baker she is. Burner. Ha! I'd sooner swallow a toad."

  Smirking, Finch turned his eyes to me. “You would know, you’ve already tasted her pie.”

  Glaring at him, I shook my head with a groan. “She’d die in the first week. That human has no respect for her superiors. No sense of self-preservation."

  "But look at how the others glower at her. And they clearly caused her tardiness. There has to be a reason, don't you think?"

  I hummed and turned my eyes back to the brunette. She cursed as a bag of sugar fell off the table and landed on her foot. She scrambled to pick up the bag and then on her way back up hit her head on the underside of the table. My lips ticked up on one side. This could be fun.

  Chapter 2

  Ericka

  My life officially sucked. Not only was I not going to win this contest, but I already messed up big time. A pie to the face was not the kind of impression that you should leave on the fae who could make or break your chances of working in the palace.

  My mom was right. I hate saying that, but it's true. I never should have entered this damn contest, but I wanted to get out of our small podunk town, and this was the only way I saw out of it. Well, it was either that or becoming a stripper, and I just didn't have the coordination for that. Besides, when human men could look at fae women, the human strippers just didn't get paid the same.

  "You might as well quit You're never going to win." The redheaded she-bitch, Colette whispered snidely as she accidentally knocked my bag of sugar off the table.

  Pretending to have a laser that shot out of my eyes, I aimed them on her fake face and bent down to get the bag. Colette had been all smiles and compliments the first day of this contest but then the moment she found out I was from Boggsville, she and her horde of gigglers flipped their attitude real quick.

  Boggsville wasn't all bad. Yes, we lived right next to the bog but there were some great things about the town of fifteen hundred people. We had that boat tour you could take of the bog and while it did stink like the back end of a troll with diarrhea, it had some pretty interesting views. Assuming, of course, you liked to look at a bog.

  Unfortunately, besides the bakery I worked at owned by my mother and father, that was all Bogsville had going for them. We were poor, and it showed. But despite the smell and the paltry entertainment, humans and fae alike would come from neighboring towns just to get a taste of my mom's famous pies and quiches, something she thankfully passed along to me.

  It was her blueberry pie that had gotten me into this contest in the first place. Of course, I couldn't make anything else but pies and quiches, but they didn't know that. I figured I'd just wing it when I got the job. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

  And sure, a last name like Burner kind of killed people's expectations of what we could do, but really, I was the only one who couldn't cook more than a few things. Thankfully, that was all most of our customers ever asked for, so I didn't have to worry too much about expanding my skills. I just had to finish this last level of the contest and then I would be set for life. If my mishap at the beginning didn't already screw me over.

  My eyes darted from the crust I was preparing to make to the two fae men standing nearby. The one with dark curly hair and pretty blue eyes watched us work with a surveying kind of stare as if he were calculating the odds against each of us. I wouldn't have bet on me, and I didn't expect anyone else to.

  "Look at them." Colette's head minion, Janey, giggled. "I wouldn't kick them out of bed for leaving crumbs."

  Colette giggled along with her. "I'd let them eat the crumbs off of me! If you know what I mean."

  I rolled my eyes and began to crack my eggs and mix it with the milk. I was going to make my mom's famous ham and cheese quiche. It's always a hit and since the others were making more pies and other sugary creations, I figured I'd be a breath of salty comfort food goodness.

  We each had a small portable oven on our tables, just big enough for a pie dish. I just hoped the temperature would work the same way as the oven back home. I'd suck to get down to the end and have it over or undercooked.

  "Much like my love life," I muttered to myself.

  "What was that?" Brei, one of the only nice ones, asked me from my other side. She was in the middle of making something with chocolate custard, but she was putting in too much sugar and was going to ruin the whole thing.

  Clearing my throat, I nodded toward her bowl. "You're putting in too much sugar. The custard won't smooth, and you'll end up with a sand-in-your-mouth texture."

  “Really?” Brei looked from me to her bowl and frowned. "I think you’re right.” She sighed. “Damn. Now I have to start over."

  "No, you don't." I stopped mixing my bowl and stepped over to her table. "Just double your recipe then you won't waste any of it. Just be sure not to put too much sugar in this time." I smiled at her.

  "Thanks so much, Ericka. You're a lifesaver!" Brei wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight. I patted her on the back awkwardly before huffing a laugh as she thankfully released me. Holding me at shoulder length, she beamed down at me. "I don't care what those other stuck of women say, you're not bog sludge."

  I laughed and gave her a tight smile, trying my best not to look at the other women, who were listening far too closely to our conversation. "Uh, thanks. And don't worry about it. It happens to all of us."

  "One hour left!" Vignette called out.

  Brei jumped in front of me, her eyes going wide. "Oh, no! I better get a move on. Thanks again, Ericka."

  I shook my head and smiled despite myself. Turning back to my table, I lifted my hands to my hair and resecured my bun. Raising my eyes from my table, they locked onto the dark eyes of Angus. My hands froze in place at the disturbing expression on his face. It was a mixture of annoyance and surprise. For a moment, I wondered if he had overheard Brei and my conversation but then shrugged. No way, he was too far away. He was probably still pissed that I put a pie in his face. Hopefully, he got a taste of it. I make some damn good pie, if I say so myself.

  Smirking to myself, I went back to working on my quiche. Some people used pie crust for their quiches but not me. My mother always said that the key to a great quiche was the crust. A pie crust was too thick and dry for a quiche. You had to make sure that the crust didn't overpower the contents of the dish.

  As I worked, I hummed to myself. It was the only way to get myself into the zone and not think about people watching me or in this case talking behind my back. Usually, I would belt out to some pop song or another on the radio or more often than not talk to myself while cooking. But that would make me look like a crazy person - well crazier than they already thought I was. Which was why the humming was so important. If I didn't hum, I was going to talk and then I would ramble. With the eyes and ears of so many on me, I wasn’t taking the chance. There was already only a slim chance of winning since I'd already bungled up my entrance. I was lucky Vignette hadn't docked me for my pie going into Angus's face and not on the table for the king. />
  The king. I let a shudder go through me. I hadn't met the man myself or his father, but I'd heard that King Balefire had a temper worthy of his name, and he let it loose on any and everyone who got on his bad side. I just hoped he was easy to please and wouldn't be by the kitchens... ever.

  There had been a lot of gossip about him already and that was just what was going around the contestants. Half of them were freaked out while the other half was hoping to get invited into his bed. Apparently, he was dreamy in that ‘caveman throw you over his shoulder’ kind of way.

  Not my type.

  I want a guy who would respect me and my limited cooking abilities. A man who would romance me and tell me how lucky he was to find a woman like me. I didn't really care about how he looked or even if he was human or fae. I wasn't speciest. Well, I take that back. Maybe not a troll. Or a Bogart. Those things just freaked me out.

  As I finished laying out the crust on my pan, another shudder went through me, which was then a snort that didn't come from me. My head jerked up and my eyes narrowed on Angus, who was still watching me with an intensity that caused me to squirm. What was that guy's problem?

  Angus leaned his bulky frame over to say something to Lord Finch. The lord gave Angus a disapproving frown before shaking his head. Angus smirked in my direction and I knew for sure they were talking about me.

  Doomed. That's what I was, completely and utterly doomed. I might as well quit right here and now. There was no way in hell I was going to get chosen now.

  I slumped at my station, my hands half-heartedly pushing the crust into place. A giggle from Colette and her group and my back straightened. That was it. I wasn't going to be beaten down by some prissy stuck up snobs just because they come from a better town than mine. Nor was I going to let some royal adviser with a stick up his ass keep me from putting my all into this contest. I came here for a reason. To win. And damn it all, I was going to.

  With a renewed vigor, I shoved the crust a bit more forcefully into the pan and then poured in the filling. A mixture of ham, a couple of types of cheeses, and some green peppers. Throw in a dash of salt and pepper, some more milk and eggs and you had the recipe for deliciousness.

  Shoving the pan into the preheated portable oven on my table, I let out a sigh of relief when Vignette called out, "Forty-five minutes left!"

  It only took about forty minutes to cook my quiche, so I'd barely made it. Now, I had to cross my fingers, toes, and all my hairs that the time would be similar to back home. I didn't want everyone to believe my namesake on this most important day. It was bad enough when I was in school, but as an adult, being called Burner the Baker wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

  "What is that awful smell?" Colette cried out overdramatically, waving a hand in front of her nose before shooting a glare in my direction. "What kind of pie are you making? Bog stench?"

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to Colette. "Yep, I got it from your toilet bowl. Do you want a taste?"

  To my delight, Colette's face colored an eggplant purple as she tried to restrain herself from attacking me right then and there. I was sure if the advisers from the palace hadn't been there then she would be on my back yanking my hair out like any cliché girl fight. I half hoped she would. My right hand was itched to punch her right in her fake nose.

  "I'm curious as well, what are you making?" A dark shadow covered my station and I abruptly twisted back around to face Angus. Lord Finch stood a few feet behind him a bemused expression on his face.

  Clearing my throat, I dropped my arms and met his gaze. Such intensity from such a big man. If I was a lesser woman, I'd be a puddle on the floor. However, my insides were made of spam and fondant, not butter. Okay, that's a gross combination that I was never ever going to think about again. Clearing my throat again, I gestured to the cooking pan that certainly did not smell like a bog. It smelled exactly how it should smell, savory and mouth-watering.

  "It's a quiche."

  "A quiche?" Angus lifted a brow. "Why would you make a quiche at a baking contest?"

  I narrowed my eyes on the fae man. Did he not know anything about baking? "A quiche is an item you bake..." I pointed a finger at the oven with some attitude. "... in the oven. It's not against the rules."

  Angus's lips twitched at the sides. "I didn't say it was, but did you ever think that maybe the king doesn't like quiches? Have you ever thought of that?"

  I was flabbergasted. I'd never thought of that. That was half of my baking skills. My fingers twisted into my apron and I tried not to panic. Then my eyes landed on the way Angus's eyes sparkled and a dimple appeared on one side of his face.

  Seeing red, I grabbed a handful of flour and threw it at him. Immediately afterward, I gasped and scrambled to find a rag for him. "Oh, my god. I'm sorry. Here let me help you."

  Colette and her gang laughed and jeered behind my back just as the bell dinged on my oven. I struggled between glaring over at them, helping Angus who was wiping flour from his eyes, and needing to get my quiche out. I couldn't let it burn...so I did the only rational thing I could in that instance. "Here," I tossed the rag at him and turned to my oven. Shoving my hand into an oven mitt, I pulled my quiche out.

  Sitting it on the cooling tray, I sighed. It was perfect. The crust was just the right color of golden brown and the cheese inside had melted just the way I liked it. My relief was short-lived as a low growl came from the fae man in front of me.

  Swallowing thickly, I shifted my eyes back to Angus.

  His jaw clenched and his hands gripped the rag I'd thrown at him, his face still mostly covered in flour. I opened my mouth to stutter out another apology and to maybe ream him some more about teasing me when his skin began to shimmer. My tongue grew three sizes too big for my mouth when the fae man in front of me transformed.

  Angus's brown hair lightened until it matched the sun. His eyes paled to a blue so light it would put the sky to shame. The dusty color of his skin took on a golden tint that almost glowed. His clothing stayed the same. but beneath the shirt, tattoos flickered with magical light, outlining the swirls and glyphs of the royal family.

  A horrified gasp sounded behind me and I was shoved to the side by Vignette. A sharp pain ratcheted through my side as I hit the corner of the table next to me. My hands shot out to steady myself. I didn't have the energy to be mad at Vignette who was practically licking the dirt off of King Balefire's boots. My gaze drifted to the king himself and I suddenly realized what all the women were talking about before. He really was a beast of a man.

  His long golden hair flowed down to his shoulders that was just a shade lighter than his skin. His chiseled jaw was smooth the way most fae men left their faces but was tightened into a hardened edge, that no doubt had everything to do with me. A straight nose that sat between those large blue eyes. In another setting those eyes would be beautiful but right now as they glared down at us, they were terrifying. He didn't need a crown on his head to say he was king. It radiated through and around him. My knees wobbled beneath me and I gripped the table next to me to keep myself standing.

  "Now you're in for it, bog trash," Colette whispered venomously behind my back. "It was nice knowing you."

  "Silence," King Balefire growled, and Vignette clamped her mouth shut with a whimper. His eyes moved from the fae woman to me. "Miss Burner, is it?"

  Shoving down the quiver inside of me that I couldn't figure out if it was fear or utter humiliation. I was going for the latter. He was just a man after all. A large all-powerful man that could squash me like a bug but no matter. I'd been looked down on my whole life now shouldn't be any different. I had already resigned that I wasn't going to win today so I might as well go out with a bang!

  Lifting my chin, I stared him in the eye. "That's me. And I guess that means you're not Angus?"

  "No," he clipped.

  I sniffed, apparently having a death wish because the word vomit just came spilling out. "Too bad. He was better looking."

  A collecti
ve gasp made my throat tighten as I prepared to be punished for my words. Even Lord Finch seemed a bit worried as he moved closer to the king, but King Balefire didn't rain down fiery damnation on me like I thought he would. All he did was... smirk. In some ways, that was far worse than if he had smote me right then and there.

  Leaning forward, King Balefire placed his hands on the front of my table and jerked his head toward my quiche. "Let's taste this quiche you are so sure I will like."

  Vignette threw a pitying look in my direction before hurrying out of the way.

  Darting at look around me at the eyes all pointed in my direction, I slowly walked toward my table. My head held high, I went about cutting him a piece of my quiche. To my satisfaction, the insides were just moist enough to melt in your mouth but not so much that it wasn't done. I grabbed a fork and held the plate up to him, smugness filling my chest and I knew the others probably thought I was insane for the grin on my face.

  With a daring glower, King Balefire took the plate from me and cut into it. Without looking away from my gaze, he shoved it into his mouth and chewed. I wasn't even sure he had time to actually taste it before he swallowed and announced. "I choose her. The rest of you can leave."

  A cry of outrage and dismay filled the area, but Vignette quickly rushed around the tables. "You heard His Majesty. Ericka Burner is the winner. Now congratulate her on a job well done." I couldn't see her face but from the tone of Vignette’s voice she might as well have said, "And may the gods have mercy on your soul."

  Chapter 3

  Balefire

  The shock of horror on everyone's faces but Ericka Burner's pissed me off. What the hell was wrong with this human? Was she dropped on her head as a child? Perhaps she inhaled too many fumes from all the baking. Regardless, the defiant glint in her eyes only made me want to hire her even more.

  I stabbed the fork into the piece of quiche on my plate and scooped it up into my mouth. Damn, that was good.