that possible or am I crazy?"
Tink said nothing and the sense of dread grew. I drew in a shuddering breath.
"He was going to kill me. I know he was. Even though he gave me a chance to leave, he was going to kill to me. But he healed me, and he . . . the prince . . . said halfling. When I was bleeding, he said halfling."
Tink's expression fell, and my heart followed. "Ivy."
I couldn't catch my breath. My skin suddenly felt cold.
He flew into the room and several moments passed. "We—the brownies—have always been able to sense the Otherworld in other creatures, no matter how minimal. In a way, it made us valuable to the others," he explained quietly, his pale gaze sharp and fixed on me. "Fae, ancient or not, aren't bloodhounds. They have to be right on someone to scent the half in them."
And the ancient who'd shot me, the one who opened the gate with Val's help, hadn't been standing right by me. He'd been several feet away. Was that something that the Elite hadn't realized?
"But you . . ." I couldn't even finish the thought. In the back of my mind, I knew Tink had been keeping even more information from me, but at that moment, I didn't care. That wasn't what was important right now. Maybe later I'd punt kick him through a window, but at this second, horror consumed me. "It wasn't a coincidence that I found you, was it?"
Tink cast his gaze to the floor, and the stake trembled in my right hand.
"Don't do it, Ivy."
And because he asked that, I did it. I had to. I had to know, and I swiped the sharp edge of the stake right across my palm. I didn't even feel the pain, but my skin split with a hiss, and my blood immediately bubbled and popped.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
Dropping the thorn stake, it clattered off the wood floor as I stepped back from it. I lifted my head, staring at Tink. His wings drooped to the side as he lowered himself to the foot of the bed. My heart was thundering, pounding so fast I thought I'd be sick.
"No," I whispered.
Tink looked up soberly. "I told you not to do it."
A raw sob rose from the depths of my soul. "No."
There was no response from Tink, and as my gaze crawled back to my palm, to where my blood still bubbled like it was being boiled, I staggered under one horrifying realization after another.
I was the halfling.
I was the halfling the man I'd fallen in love with had been sent here to kill.
The Wicked Saga continues with the sequel
TORN
Coming summer of 2015
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I want to thank Stacey Morgan for listening to me ramble on about a dream I had and how I wanted to write a book loosely based on it. Because she said I should do it, I did it. And another big thank you to my agent Kevan Lyon, who being her usual awesome self, listened when I said I wanted to self-publish this book and got right behind me. People, she totally rocks. Thirdly, another thank you goes out to Sarah Hansen from Okay Creations, and her beautiful cover design, and to Kelsey Kukal-Keeton for being excited about doing an underwater photo shoot and pulling off an amazing job. Thank you to the awesome models—Justin Edwards and Heather Noel MacDonald for also being willing to jump into the water and still manage to be incredibly sexy doing so. That's some real talent right there.
Thank you to Kara Malinczak for her awesome editorial powers and cleaning up this book so it's not a hot mess. KP Simmons—thank you for doing your PR thing like a chicken wing.
Without Laura Kaye, Tiffany King, Wendy Higgins, Sophie Jordan, Jen Fisher, and Lesa Rodrigues, I'd probably go crazy. Or stop procrastinating so much and get more work done. Cora Carmack—you rock. Sarah Maas—I still have a total girl crush on you. Jay Crownover—let's make book babies one day. Thank you to Jamie McGuire for giving me the courage to do something. She knows what it is. Thank you.
Last but not least, a thank you to all the reviewers, bloggers, and readers of my books. You guys are why I do this. I love all of you. Seriously. THANK YOU.