Page 104 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

“Let’s get your pack mate justice, shall we?” The witch lifted her brows.

Hope tingled in my gut as I held out my hand to the young witch holding my torn garment. She took the offering and breathed in the scents wafting from the cloth. Her eyes snapped open wide, a breathy gasp slipping from her lips.

“What? What is it?” I asked.

She handed me back the cloth with trembling fingers and swallowed hard. “I—I mean, I can’t believe?—”

“Can’t believe what? Please tell me.”

Her gaze lingered on the cloth for a moment before finding mine. “Dark Fae. The scent on the cloth is the essence of Dark Fae.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Oh, God. I’ve had my suspicions but…”

I swallowed past the dry lump in my throat. “But what?”

“I’m going to tell you something about the Dark Fae, but you didnothear this from me,” she whispered.

I gave her a shaky nod. “I won’t say a word to anyone other than Damon.”

With narrowed eyes, the witch scrutinized me, as if assessing my trustworthiness. Finally, she said, “The Fae Realm is in danger. I have only heard of its devastation, from the witches in higher positions than I, but I know for a fact the Fae Realm is dying. It is a barren wasteland; there are pockets of life—cities that thrive. But most of their realm is dying.”

I blinked. “But why? Aren’t the fae powerful? Don’t they have enough power to wield natural elements and sustain their realm and life on it? Or are the stories about the fae I’d heard as a pup false?”

A bump along the outer wall of the restroom resounded, and I flinched. The witch whipped her head to the door; her gaze sharpening. Yet, no one entered the bathroom. Raucous laughter soon followed. I loosened a breath as I realized it was probably some drunk that had lost his balance and slumped against the wall beyond the door.

The young witch offered me a tremulous smile.

“What is your name?” I asked.

After a hesitant pause, she said, “Sandral.”

I nodded. “Okay, Sandral, why is the Fae Realm dying?”

She licked her lips, darting her eyes at the door. “Because, though the fae are all powerful, their energy thrives most from human beliefs.”

I cocked my head to the side, perplexed.

Upon seeing my confusion, she proceeded to explain, “Fae and humans are closely tied. Millennium upon millennium ago, they shared the same ancestors, but the lines branched off somewhere down the genetic pathways.” She sighed. “Humans adored both Light Fae and Dark Fae, but now the light fae are gone and?—”

“What happened to them?”

She frowned. “The Dark Fae’s conquest of power wiped them out. Some say they still live hidden within the mountains… look, I don’t have time to explain.” She huffed. “The Fae Realm relies on human awareness to exist and thrives on the adoration and worship of the humans. Now that those are no longer factors taking place?—”

“The fae are losing their home.” A ragged sigh escaped my lips. “That could be the reason the Dark Fae are manipulating the werebears. As vengeance for losing the adoration of humans, they’re killing them.” I heaved a breath. “But that still makes little sense. If they kill the humans, what does that accomplish? They’d still have no humans to restore their home.”

“Maybe they want a new home,” the witch said.

I blinked, not understanding. Then realization dawned like a cold spray of ice water.

“The Dark Fae wants our realm.”

I slipped out of the bathroom, leaving the younger witch to follow a few moments later. My steps unhurried, I made for the exit, my heart settling like a rock in my stomach. To have this confirmation about the Dark Fae felt like dousing icy water over my body—jarring. The possibility they wanted to take over the Human Realm was startling to my nerves, and my body felt as if it was unraveling tendon by tendon.

Within several feet of the door, an arm snaked around my shoulders. “Woah, there, little female,” a deep voice purred behind me. “Don’t you wanna stick around for a little while?”

After spinning around, I found myself in the arms of a male werewolf. I recognized him. He was one of the males who Damon growled at earlier at the table. He had his hair slicked back with gel, causing the locks to resemble porcupine quills. Beady green eyes stared down at me, thin lips curled in a lustful grin.

“No, I don’t,” I bit out, squirming in his arms. “Now, unless you want your balls kicked up into your throat, I suggest you let go of me.”

The man’s head fell back as he roared with laughter. His grimy arms still snaked around me as he howled back to his pack mates at the table. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a feisty one.” The other males cheered their approval. The male werewolf holding me dipped his head, his cold, wet lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “I like them like that.”

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