Last Call Europe: Faery Dust by Mina Carter

Last Call Europe: Faery Dust
by Mina Carter

cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-286-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: Last Call Europe
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1226

Blurb:

Asharra De Silve, Faery Princess of the Terralien line, is getting married. The whole regal pomp and circumstance, the big white dress, the flowers... and it's all a sham. She's been sold off to the highest bidder as a virgin princess to save her family from the Fae equivalent of debtor's gaol. So she's decided that a visit to Last Call is in order...


Faery Dust: Nymph seeks a good hard fucking. One night to last a lifetime.


Deverell, Lord Hunter, is in town for his own wedding. But with a wedding comes a bedding, and he needs to take the edge off his appetite before he even tries to take his promised virgin bride to bed. So when a pretty little sprite calls for a Faery Dust, Dev's more than happy to show her just how wicked a dark Lord of the Fae can be.


Excerpt:

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They'd sold her -- lock, stock and fucking barrel -- to the highest bidder.
Ash's teeth still ground at the thought as she sat in a darkened corner of the bar. She sat alone, which wasn't usual in a place like this but from the glances being sent her way, most people had worked out the slender woman wasn't here for the ambience and the snazzy decor. No, Ash was in here for a bit of pro-active payback.
Turning the menu over in her hand, she looked at it for the hundredth time, quite unaware of the interested glances mixed in with the cautious ones. She was used to being watched, being looked at, and Ash had long ago learned to zone out the attention. Not much to look at anyway, her mother's oft repeated litany echoed in her mind, only worth you've got is the blood that runs in your veins. Be thankful for that and try not to fall over your own feet and make a fool of yourself.
The blood that ran in her veins. Ash snorted, an inelegant habit which drove her mother to distraction. She was a bona fide Faery princess, not that you'd guess that to look at her. Just over five foot, plain brown hair, plain brown eyes and curvy… nothing at all like the tall, willowy beauty of her Sidhe mother. But then, her father's family were the mongrels and Ash's inability to speak above a normal level spoke volumes.
There were certain types of dark Fae in the Midnight Host who couldn't do a magical scream or shout, none of them pleasant and all of them way more interesting than Ash had any right to be. But the fact remained, she couldn't shout to save her life. And primal screaming? That was well out of the question. It was a pity because she could do with some of that right about now.
Blood, however, was the valuable commodity, considering her darling family had managed to auction her to pay off their not inconsiderable debts. Hissing in annoyance, she reached for her drink again. Vodka, lime and soda, her second, and she didn't plan on it being her last. Tonight she planned on pushing the boat out in every way she could.
She was getting married tomorrow to a man she hadn't picked, didn't want and was way too old for her. Like five hundred years too old for her. Why the fuck had her family decided to marry her off to some fossil?
Ash grimaced. She knew the answer to that one -- cold hard cash. Lord Hunter, Keeper of the Black Plains, was loaded, and with real money, not just the "Faery gold" of old wives' tales. The instant he'd waved a cheque book under their noses and asked "how much?" her fate had been sealed. Made no matter that the Lords of the Black Plain were a little nearer to the Midnight Hunt, the nastiest of the Dark Court, than made most modern Fae comfortable. Her family had still sold her.
Perhaps she'd get lucky, and he'd be so old that just the thought of sex with his nubile young wife would be too much for his heart and he'd kick the bucket, leaving her a very relieved and very wealthy widow. Not that she had that kind of luck. He was more likely to be a randy old git who insisted on fucking her every night. Ash shuddered in revulsion.
Draining the glass in one go, she pulled a face as the vodka burned all the way down. Oh yeah, she was getting plastered and worse. Her family wouldn't even let her have a hen night. As soon as the ink was dry on the contract, they'd locked her in her room until the big day. It had taken some planning and not inconsiderable use of her talent for illusion to get out tonight and make her way here, to Last Call.
Playing with her glass on the table, she looked across the room. Over the other side of the dance floor was what she had come here for; the Specialty bar. Well, it wasn't precisely what she'd come for, but it was the first step in the process of getting what she wanted.
Ash's full lips compressed as a muscle jumped in the side of her jaw, the only sign of her inner tension. No hen night? Then she was just going to have her own party here tonight -- an all out fuck-fest that left no stone unturned and no first for her decrepit husband to claim.
It made her wish she was a virgin still so she could find the best looking guy with the biggest cock and fuck him senseless, knowing she was screwing over her family and her groom at the same time. It would serve them right for selling her off as a virgin.
Ash snorted; perhaps her new husband would sue her family on the trade descriptions act because she sure as hell wasn't a virgin. She hadn't been since she was sixteen and her father's bodyguard had taught her all about the difference between girls and boys in the back of her father's limo.
She looked down at the menu in her hand again, scanning through the drinks for something suitable. She'd been looking at it for an hour, working up her courage and deciding what to go for, but so far nothing had caught her eye. There were drinks for vampires, werewolves, even one for the most elusive of the paranormal races, the valkyries. Nothing for Fae though.
Ash blinked as a line caught her eye. Faery Dust: Nymph seeks a good hard fucking. One night to last a lifetime.
That hadn't been there a moment ago, she was sure of it. There hadn't been anything Fae, not at all, but there it was in black and white.
Flipping the menu closed, she held it on her lap for a moment and then opened it again. Scanning down it again, she paused on the same line. It was still there. Faery Dust. Her decision made, she stood up, her eyes fixed on the bar.








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