Page 148 of Taken By the Fae

I walk through the lobby, glancing around at the beauty of it, remembering my first time taking it all in. The smile drops off my face when I catch Marisa heading toward the kitchen, her eyes puffy and red. I turn and change direction, closing the distance between us as I call her name.

Halfway down the quiet hallway, she stops, slowly turning to face me.

“What’s going on?” I frown at the dark waves of dread pouring off her.

She shakes her head and forces a watery smile. “Nothing. It’s fine. I just need some air.”

“Talk to me,” I say. “Maybe I can help?”

She chews her bottom lip before nodding. “Can we go outside?”

“Lead the way.” During my time here, I never used this hallway or spent time in the kitchen, so I’m not sure where to go.

She keeps walking, and I follow her outside to what appears to be a delivery entrance. There’s a black escalade with tinted windows parked near the dumpster, but other than that, the lot is empty.

Marisa sighs, sniffling, and leans against the exterior of the building.

“What’s going on?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Marisa lifts her head to look at me. “I hope you believe me when I say I wish I didn’t have to do this.” She wipes the tears from her face.

My brows tug closer as panic and confusion flood in. “What are you talking about?”

She says nothing. She doesn’t have to.

When I’m grabbed from behind and the stick of a needle pinches my neck, my blood runs cold.

“If you had just stayed human…” She trails off and shakes her head again.

My eyelids droop and my legs no longer want to hold me upright. I fall against the guy holding me as black splotches dance across my vision and my head spins so fast everything blurs.

Fuck.

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

Marisa frowns, her mouth forming,I’m sorry, and then the world slips away.

ChapterForty-One

My ears register the constantbeep… beep… beepof a machine before I open my eyes. A sharp antiseptic smell burns my nose. I recoil from it with nowhere to go. My eyes sting as I blink them open. Light overwhelms my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the harsh lights above me. I go to move my arm to cover my face but meet resistance. I try my other arm—same thing. They’re secured to the bed I’m lying on.What the hell?

I lift my head, blinking until my vision clears, and the room slowly materializes around me. My pulse skyrockets as I take it in—everything is white. The bed, the sheets, the walls, the shirt and pants I’m wearing.

Marisa. She… let someone take me.Who? Why? Where did they take me?Too many thoughts and questions are running on a loop in my head, too fast for me to focus on one.

I never thought I’d experience a moment where I regretted not letting Nikolai teach me how to shift. I’d been terrified of it so deeply and didn’t get to a point where I was comfortable enough with all the other fae abilities I was learning to give it a shot. If I’d known I would need to escape capture, I would’ve sucked it up and taken a few lessons.

Hindsight is a real bitch.

I close my eyes and picture Tristan’s penthouse, as if that’s all I need to do to transport myself there, to be in his arms and have him assure me everything's okay. His suite is clear as day in my mind, from the neutral furniture to the warmth of the fireplace. Hell, even the faint lemon scent in the air. When my skin tingles, my pulse races.Holy shit, is it working?

The seconds tick by, and when I open my eyes, my stomach sinks. My chest rises and falls fast as my throat goes dry. I’m still trapped in the all-white, sterile room that’s smaller than a hospital room—but that’s what it looks like. Moving my hand as much as I can, I wince when the IV attached to it moves, searing pain through my fingers. I follow the clear tubes up to the bags they’re hanging from and swallow the bile rising in my throat. I don’t have a clue what’s being pumped into my body—I probably don’twantto know—and I have no way of stopping it.

Panic rolls through me like a wicked, unforgiving storm, and I snap. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I fight the restraints, kicking hard and pulling at the binds around my wrists. Pain slices at my skin, burning hot as I realize the padded cuffs holding me to the bed are constructed with iron.

Son of a bitch.

I lie back, my breathing heavy and my forehead damp with sweat. Before I can make another attempt to break free, the metal door to the room opens, and Dr. Richelle Collins walks in, smiling as if she’s happy to see me.

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