Excerpt:
I hear him before I see him;
the purposeful steps he takes up the alley, the clink of armour, the song of a
dagger he sheathes.
I turn my head to the mouth of the alley, where the
main street blazes orange. And I see his silhouette first. Tall, broad—consuming.
Danger creeps up my spine. I have the sudden urge to
break free and run at the other dark fae. I don’t want to face this one coming
up the alley, the one all the others fall silent for.
My breath is deep and shaky as I see him completely
engulfed in firelight.
The darkness fades from him, but lashes of it seem to
lick at his heels, as though the darkness itself belongs to him, he is their
master, their home. His soft-soled boots are thin, onyx-black leather, matching
the trousers that grip him.
At his hips hangs a belt that’s home to all kinds of
daggers and throwing knives. Some blades wear traces of fresh blood, and my spine
shivers at the sight of the crimson smears gleaming in firelight.
Chain-link armour—so fine that it appears to have been
made from silk threads—clings to a black-leather vest he wears. Paler than
moonlight, his skin is scarred all over. His arms, muscular and strong, are
ribbed by these strange scars. They aren’t bumped like the scars that scatter
my arms, but pale and jagged not unlike stretch marks. They climb up his neck
like claws, and stop just before the strong jawline.
His face steals me.
I’ve seen some dark fae from a distance before, and up
close and personal today. They are all beautiful in the most dangerous of ways,
like deadly cobras or lethal panthers. But this one… he’s something else.
His sleek dark hair falls to the side and brushes over
his raised eyebrow. His eyes are pits of nothingness, just pure black. As I
take in his face, I think fleetingly of our old world and the likes of Henry Cavill
and Matt Bomer.
Only, this guy is no
pampered actor. He’s a warrior, and his onyx-black eyes are fixed on me. There’s
nothing friendly about the way he looks at me, either. I get the gut-churning
feeling he’s about to skin me alive.
Dark Fae
The Dark Fae Book 1
by Quinn Blackbird
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
He came to destroy the world.
He came to destroy us.
But he kept me alive when all else died.
It’s the end of us, the humans. Our world is ravaged, burned to the ground, destroyed by the armies of dark fae crawling all over our lands. They seek to end us, weed out the last of our survivors, and tear us to pieces.
We hide as best as we can. But it’s inevitable.
A dark fae army finds us hiding in a little village. We’re all goners. All of my group dies around me, and I’m about to join them in death—until he spares me.
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Taken
The Dark Fae Book 2
He's a monster.
I'm a prisoner.
And he's got his sights locked on me.
Caspan, the dark fae General, shows a dangerous interest in Vale, the latest human captive collected by the army.
What the dark fae want with the human captives is anyone's guess—but it's the last thing on Vale's mind. As she struggles to manoeuvre the strict rules of her new life as a slave, she quickly learns that she must avoid the attention of the dark, dangerous Caspan at all costs.
His interest in her is not only a sinister mystery—it's surely a death sentence.
Stay alive. That's her only rule in this dark, abandoned world.
But living amongst monsters sometimes means having to bend the rules.
Dark Souls
The Dark Fae Book 3
Rule of the apocalypse. Don't mess with the dark fae.
I did, and now this monstrous fae wants me;
Wants to hurt me,
Kill me,
And kiss me.
Vale is trapped in the dark fae army, a prisoner of monsters. To make matters worse, the dangerous and dark General isn't forgetting her any time soon.
He corners her, watches her, and does what no dark fae should do with a human--kisses her.
His lips on her skin is a kiss of death.
But Vale sees in him an opportunity to save the life of her only friend.
Didn't anyone ever tell Vale never to bargain with the fae?
Quinn Blackbird loves a good anti-hero.
All of her villains stay submerged in 'dark' so expect little redemption. She thinks them up over hot coffees and warm cups of tea on the porch.
When not writing, Quinn loves a good face mask and book on the couch with her two pups.
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