To celebrate the release of Filthy Rich Fae: Fallen Court, which is a a fast-paced read with a delightfully excruciating slow burn, featuring all the witty banter and sexy angst, we’re throwing it back to the first installment Filthy Rich Fae with a peek at an excerpt!
Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from the first book and don’t forget to preorder your copy of Fallen Court today!
Cate Holloway knows the unspoken rule of New Orleans: avoid the powerful Gage crime family at all costs. Of course, that was before her brother got caught in their chaos. Now Cate has no choice but to confront the dark and forbidding prince of New Orleans himself…and beg for her brother’s life.
But Lachlan Gage is as lethal as he is beautiful… and the only currency he’s interested in is her soul.
Because Lachlan isn’t just some ruthless criminal. He’s fae. And he has his own secret reasons for binding her to him.
Tricked and desperate, Cate is torn between humanity and the breathtaking Otherworld. A place filled with shadows and secrets, with members of each fae court plotting against her just as her captor’s motives for trapping her become more mysterious.
And if she can’t break this sinister bargain in the next thirty days, she’ll be bound to the inscrutable yet infuriatingly tempting fae prince and his deadly world…forever.
Chapter 27: Lach’s POV
Cate’s gaze snagged on the blood staining my shirt and lingered.
Monster.
I didn’t need her to say it, not when the word roared in my own head.
I slammed the door behind me and stalked toward my rooms, the blood covering my hands suddenly slippery and unwelcome.
Cate followed, hovering behind me as I turned on the tap and grabbed the soap.
“That’s a lot of blood,” she murmured as it circled the drain.
I shrugged. “Don’t worry, princess. It’s not mine.”
“Because that makes me feel so much better,” she said with a huff. She leaned against the wall, pinning me with her all-seeing stare as I washed. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, red clung to the creases of my knuckles, stayed caked under my fingernails. The water had gone cold when she finally reached over and shut off the faucet.
Why wouldn’t she leave? A sickening new sensation swept over me. She felt responsible for calling for help. That was the only reason she could stomach being this close to me. I planted my palms on the counter, trying to utter the words that would release her. But Cate moved closer, her movements cautious, scared of the savage beast before her. My mouth opened as her hand touched my shoulder.
I tensed. Three words and this would be over, but my lips refused to move. I dragged air into my lungs willing myself to speak. But she took another step and her scent washed over me, still faint after her own shower.
“Are you okay?”
How could she be asking that? It was so absurd that I laughed. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
I shook her off me. I couldn’t think—not when she was touching me.
She went completely still as I dried my hands on a towel.
Her silence called out to me, and my eyes found hers in the mirror. There were scratches on her face and bruises on her neck, but it was the jagged wound peeking out from her robe that nearly undid me. Questions swam in her eyes. Even now, she was so Gods-damned curious that I almost smiled. “Go on. Ask me.”
She bit her lower lip, and that faltering confidence reminded me of my part in this. I was not the man who rescued her. I never would be. She needed to face that. I whipped toward her, arms caging her to the wall. “Ask me,” I said again. “Ask me what I did to the males that touched you.”
Sadness filled her eyes but she remained quiet. How much had I broken her?
Ask me what I would do every time someone hurt her.
Ask me what I would do to protect her.
Ask me what I would give up to know she was safe.
“Ask me!” I thundered.
Tears spilled down her beautiful face as she asked in a broken whisper, “What did you do?”
My relief that she’d finally spoken was short-lived. I heard the trace of disgust in her voice. Saw how her eyes lingered on the blood splattered all over me. I stepped away. “What I’ve always done.” I sighed. “Bad things. Very bad things done extremely well.”
I glared at her, wishing I could hate her as much as I hated myself. It would be so much simpler. At least, she hated me. She’d made that clear at the club. I should have released her then, sent her packing before my kind laid their vicious fingers on her.
My gaze found her wound again. I had caused that. I needed to fix it. I felt for the blood apple in my pocket. First, I would heal her. “This will help.”
Confusion scrunched her nose. Gods, I wanted to kiss her. “They’re grown with vampire venom,” I explained instead. “It will speed up healing.”
She swallowed but abandoned it on the counter. The fact that she couldn’t even summon the will to scream at me told me how badly I’d fucked up.
Cate’s arm stretched in my direction, and I prayed for a well-earned slap. Anything to shake her out of this daze. But she lifted a towel to my face instead and began carefully wiping it clean. I couldn’t move, couldn’t tear my eyes from her until she finally stopped, her eyes searching my skin. Maybe this was just part of who she was—a nurse would tend to anyone whether or not they deserved it. I caught her wrist before she could continue.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
I heard her heart speed up, my own ratcheting to match its speed.
“Taking care of you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” My thumb brushed over her soft skin, my body crying out to touch her, to hold her.
“Someone has to.” But she didn’t meet my eyes as she wiped more blood from me. Not until she dropped the towel on the floor. “Your shirt.”
The command was so imperious—so her—that I straightened instantly. Loosening my holster I dropped my weapons to the ground before raising my arms. I would shake her free from this misplaced sense of obligation. Push her buttons until she was screaming at me again. But she reached up and began to unfasten the buttons. I watched her with fascination, seeing a softness in her that she had hidden — or maybe I’d never earned.
Not that I had earned it now.
Surely, she understood that, but when she reached the final one, her palms swept under my shirt. I choked back a shudder as her fingers traced my skin and paused on a scar. She blinked with confusion like until that moment she’d thought she was touching a god.
I added Stockholm Syndrome to the list of sins I’d committed against her.
I nodded toward the old wound. “As a smartass once said, even immortals bleed—and iron scars.”
Her slight shiver chased away some of the shadows hanging over me, a different heaviness descending over me as she pushed my shirt over my shoulders. A pretty flush crept over her cheeks, giving me new and dangerous ideas. I forced my mind to empty, and she frowned, her forehead knitting together as she yanked my sleeves down to finish removing my shirt. But her finger strayed to a swirl of ink on my shoulder.
“They’re peaceful,” she said so softly that I understood something that made no sense. But there was something about Cate that had always made sense to me, would always make sense to me even when it shouldn’t. Her face lifted, her eyes shining. Not with tears this time. “Kiss me, Lach.”
Lach. Not Lachlan. Not Gage. Did she feel the world shift beneath us?
I didn’t ask. Not when I had been waiting for her to say those words. Not when there was no other answer. I cradled her face, less gently than I should. There would be no turning back after we crossed this line.
I should send her away.
I should save her.
From this life. From this world. From me.
I kissed her instead.
