Curse of the Fae King by Kryssie Fortune

herb farm and wait until my magic returns. Then I will summon the Fae warriors, and we will scour the otherworld for your mother.”
    He wants me to forget my mother and leave? Treacherous, cowardly Fae. Or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to fight for me and mine.
    She lifted her chin and tossed him the tractor’s keys. “Here. Take Lipstick and go. Don’t expect me to cower at home when my mother’s in danger. Watch out for Fairy dust, or maybe it suits you to have your powers so depleted you can’t get involved.”
    Torn between tears and anger, she stormed outside and slammed the door—hard. Sweet Hekate, she’d believed in Leonidas, trusted him even. Given her history, she should have known he’d turn out as two-faced as the Witches she’d thought were her friends.
    She had grown up basking in the open affection of the coven, but they proved as false as her Fae. She’d seen affection turn to embarrassment, then rejection in the Witches’ eyes. What if Leo ever looked at her like that? For the first time she understood the sadness that shrouded her mother.
    Back in the otherworld, she’d celebrated every time one of her friends grew into their powers. One night with blaring rock music and illicit sips of fermented apple juice was branded in her brain. Even the coven’s senior Witches had laughed at her younger self’s antics, despite their barbed comments about her generation coming into their powers late. Her friends had all gained them eventually—but not her. How can that still hurt so badly? Failed Witch. Failed daughter. Failed lover? Wasn’t there anything she was good at?
    Her early childhood, surrounded by spell casters and quick-witted Witches who went out of their way to make her smile, had being idyllic.
    “You’ll grow into your powers soon, dear.”
    “Don’t worry, the longer the wait, the stronger the powers.”
    Only there’d been no powers—ever. Gradually the hugs grew less frequent, and her friends started to make sly digs about her lack of prowess. She’d emerged from puberty with double D breasts, a peach-shaped butt, and a handspan waist—but no discernible magic.
    The Witch council convened a special meeting to discuss her little problem. Her mother took matters into her own hands and moved the pair of them to Whitby while the meeting was still in session. Later, she learned they’d put a price on her head. Maybe things would have worked out better if her father had stuck around, but he’d tossed her on the reject pile before she was even born.
    Meena blinked back tears and kicked at a stone. Sweet Hekate, she’d probably have let her father down too. Gods, can I be any more of a failure? No magic. No job. No friends. No family. And damn it, no Leo—at least not to keep.
    Despite her pity party, she still needed to find her mother—and she’d start by exploring in the patched-up barn. She heard Leonidas behind her but blinked back tears and refused to turn around. She couldn’t. Otherwise he’d see how his betrayal broke her.
    The barn had the freshly tiled roof the farmhouse lacked, and new plaster marked the recent repairs in the walls. Rutted cart tracks and a maze of footprints littered the ground by the entrance. She marched around the walls like Joshua at Jericho. The only entrance was the heavy oak door, so she edged it open just the tiniest crack. Well-oiled hinges swung it wide.
    Meena jumped backward—straight into Leo’s arms. He gathered her into his chest and leaped into the cover of the trees. He rolled midair, taking her weight on his chest, then rolled again and pinned her on the grassy floor. Still angry, she writhed and kicked beneath him. Every buck of her hips, every wriggle of her breasts made his cock hard—again—but she loved the way his erection rubbed against her groin.
    Eyes as dark as Whitby jet, he hissed in her ear. “Be quiet and stay still.”
    He was strength and protection, willing to sacrifice flesh and blood to keep her safe.