Unexpected Mates ~ Book One
Chapter 4

As expected, Sylvie’s second-floor apartment was empty and relatively tidy, mainly from being unused. Fern called Sylvie a workaholic often, and she only noticed it at that moment.

Truthfully, she only used the apartment to sleep, shit and shower. Scoffing to herself, Sylvie threw her keys on the table and took a few dozen calming breaths. Then, heading to the fridge, she frowned, seeing nothing but rotten fruit and expired juice boxes.

“What the hell?”

The freezer wasn’t much better, but Sylvie managed to salvage a just expired ready-made meal. Throwing it into the microwave to nuke it to death, she jumped into the shower for a quick rinse.

She never really got dirty or smelled, and she couldn’t understand Fern’s fixation on having hour-long showers. In and out was her motto. The microwave beeped as she climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself.

“Hey, dummy!” Fern’s laughter filled the lounge space. Before leaving the bathroom, Sylvie threw on her loose pyjama bottoms and a singlet, barely containing her breasts. She must have grabbed Ferns’ top by mistake.

“Hey,” she muttered, pulling her piping meal from the miniature nuclear device. “How was work?” she asked, forking the molten pasta into her mouth, crying out as it burned her tongue.

Fern leaned against the kitchen counter with a pout. “Lame. You?” Her blonde pixie cut swished in front of her eyes as she tilted her head in fake interest.

“Fine,” Sylvie lied, blowing on her food. “If I disappeared for days, how long would it take for you to notice?” Her shaky voice and dry swallowing made Fern pause, but her confusion quickly turned into obnoxious laughter.

“I’ll be honest, Vee. You could be dead for weeks in your room, and I wouldn’t notice.”

Sylvie squinted at her roommate, noticing the red veins covering the whites of her eyes and sighed. “Did you drive home high?”

Fern laughed again, waving her hand as if shooing a bug. “No. I ubered. I think.” The hyena laughter grated on Sylvie’s ears, so she quickly finished her meal and retired to her room.

Her emails pinged from her phone the second she pulled it from her bag and sat on her single bed. The sparse room echoed the irritating alert as she furiously searched for the mute function.

Natalie set her phone up to boost work emails so she would never miss an important message, but Sylvie contemplated dropping her device in the toilet bowl right then.

The temperature in her room dropped a few degrees as she fiddled with her phone and absently dragged her comforter across her lap.

“Sylvie,” a voice hissed in her ears. She jolted sideways, glancing around for the voice’s owner, but her room was empty.

A shudder trailed across her back, and she hurried beneath the covers, pulling the duvet to her chin.

“Sylvie!” Straight into her right ear, the whisper called again. A rank breath hit her cheek, and she screamed, pulling the blanket over her head and curling in a ball.

“Fern?” she yelled, hoping her voice would penetrate the fabric and closed door.

“Sylvie...” This time the name came out in a singsong tone, the voice taking on a masculine rasp.

“Fern?” she screamed louder.

Her blankets came alive, clinging to her as if the air inside was getting sucked out. Sylvie kicked and screamed, pressing the duvet away from her mouth. Horror doused her limbs in ice as the fabric smothered her.

“No!” Her lungs burned as the cotton stuffed her mouth, and her vision dulled. The future news headlines flashed across her mind. ‘Twenty-six-year-old assistant, Sylvie Hart, suffocated by a blanket.’

God dammit.

Sylvie blinked against the dull lighting, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The stippled ceiling above her head shone orange from the rising sun, blinding her from the small window panels near the roof.

Her back clicked and groaned as she sat upright on a rigid stretcher, her heart slowly matching her growing terror. The room was about the size of the bathroom in her apartment, the walls leaking a copper substance.

Sylvie’s mouth dried as she remembered her near-death experience with her rogue duvet and quickly kicked the stretcher bedding to the floor. Then, standing with a groan, she walked to the wall, swiping her finger across the fluid.

It burned her skin, and she yelped, wiping it across her pyjama pants before burying her face in her hands.

“What is happening right now?” she sniffled, pressing her palms into her eyes to stop the building pressure. “Don’t cry, don’t cry-”

“Well, well. The human is awake,” a snide feminine voice cooed. Sylvie’s head lifted, and she shot back, seeing a pair of purple eyes staring at her through a slot in the wall. The whole wall panel slid across, and Sylvie backed away, careful not to bump anything.

The creature regarded her for a second, her ebony skin sparkling from the room’s orange hue. Besides her eye colour, she looked like a regular person, but when she smiled, her pointed teeth made Sylvie’s heart pound. She could tear the flesh off of bone if she wanted to. Body mods gone wrong?

“Who are you?”

“None of your business, human.”

A frown furrowed Sylvie’s brows, and she crossed her arms. “Where am I then?”

“The dungeons,” purple eyes responded.

“Kerensa, stop playing with it. Give it the clothing,” another voice shouted from a distance.

The woman, Kerensa, growled, pulled a rucksack from behind her and kicked it forcefully towards Sylvie’s feet.

“You have five minutes. Then you will see the Queen.”

“Queen?”

The wall-door slid back with a loud thunk, and she let her questions die in her throat. Eyeing the rucksack, she gnawed her lower lip and prodded it with her toe. It didn’t move or make a sound, so she squatted to peer inside it.

It took about two minutes to loosen the knotted drawstring, but once she opened it, her mouth dropped open.

“No way,” she breathed. The attire inside looked to be straight from her favourite fantasy films. A navy velvet gown with pearls, dried flora and lace embroidery flowed like a liquid in her hands.

The bag contained other items she didn’t recognise, so she tossed them aside. They probably had a purpose, but she didn’t have time to guess. Instead, she stripped off her pyjama bottoms and pulled the gown over her head. Its inner texture was as soft as the outside, and it felt like she was wearing a cloud.

As she smoothed her hands along the skirt, the wall slid open with a loud bang.

Kerensa appeared again with a twisted scowl. “Where are the ruff and bodice?”

Sylvie eyed the bag briefly before retorting, “Where are the shoes?”

Kerensa growled and snatched the rucksack. “There is no time. Hurry up.” She turned and marched away, leaving Sylvie to patter behind to catch up. The stone floors froze her feet, and she hastened to limit their time touching the icy concrete.

Kerensa led her up a stone staircase, winding for agonising minutes. She moved so quickly that Sylvie broke out in a sweat by the time they breached the final doors.

The sudden shift in lighting blinded her, and she raised her arm to shield her eyes. A rough grip snatched her arm and dragged her further into the bright room.

Squeaking, Sylvie took in the space. Stone pillars with vines of ivy framed the area, with dozens of intricate sculptures in varying poses standing before them—the ceiling domed above them, the glass bowl laden with flowers and spiralling leaves.

She walked further inside, and the ground beneath her feet smoothened into polished stone, warm to the touch. Her numb toes appreciated the change as she followed after Kerensa. The room appeared empty until Sylvie let her gaze soften, her fatigue overcoming her. Then dozens of colourful eyes appeared, blinking from the outskirts of the room.

Sylvie jumped, scampering closer to her purple-eyed companion and focused her attention ahead. Her heart thumped harder, her nerves almost stopping her breathing as more figures swirled in her peripheral vision.

She had to be hallucinating.

Or dreaming.

Her feet grew heavy as a throne of gold, and climbing hydrangeas shimmered before her, a serene figure materialising into view.

“Mother,” Kerensa said, bowing. “The human.”

Sylvie swallowed, getting dragged by her bicep in front of the woman she presumed was the unnamed Queen and was shoved to the floor. Her head bowed automatically, and when she lifted it, the Queen’s mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Stand up.”

Sylvie stood, lifting her gaze only to be swatted on the back of the head. “Keep your eyes down,” Kerensa hissed.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sylvie glued her gaze to the floor as soft footsteps echoed in her ears. A gentle touch to her hair made her shrink away, but after another slap on her back reprimanded her, she stood numbly.

“You are quite a pretty wee thing. But you will never be suited for a Fae prince.”

Sylvie squeezed her eyes shut, imagining she was anywhere else in the world because she refused to believe the current events were happening. It couldn’t be real. She must be stuck in some intense cosplay event she had been unwittingly involved in.

Sharp fingernails bit into her chin, and her head tilted upward to follow the owner’s will. The ethereal woman, with skin the colour of deep umber with warm ochre undertones, bore her violet eyes into Sylvies.

“Now you listen to me, child, and you listen well. You are in a very precarious situation presently, and the only reason your organs have not been pulled from your belly button and woven into a necklace for a demon is me. You will remember that.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget,” Sylvie replied with a downturned mouth, the vivid description stirring her stomach. She expected another hit to her body, but to her surprise, the woman smiled.

“My son will get here soon once word of your location reaches him. You see, the walls have ears, my darling. And eyes.” She fanned her hands around, but Sylvie didn’t look. She already knew what was hiding there.

“You are to choose the Vampire and reject my son. Do you understand?”

Sylvie’s mouth opened and closed, and before she could shake her head violently, no, she didn’t understand, a furious shout echoed through the room.

“Mother! What have you done.”

The Queen swished past her with silent grace, whispering a chilling command. “Break his heart.” Before booming, “Sweet Kian, welcome home.”

“Mother, I am not playing games. Where is she?” Kian’s anger crashed from his body to the floor in waves. Sylvie swore she could feel his emotions lapping at her bare feet.

Kerensa rolled her eyes and pulled Sylvie backwards, spinning her to face her brother. The resemblance was truly uncanny.

Kian raced over in a blink, his regal attire changing his entire look, the purple fabrics dripping across his rippling muscles like liquid silk. Sylvie gasped as her hand took hers, and he searched her face. “Are you hurt?”

Casting a quick look at Kerensa, she exhaled through her nose and shook her head. “I’m okay.”

His fingers softly traced her arm, snagging the blue fabric between his forefinger and thumb.

“Why did you bring her here?”

The Queen appeared beside him, her eyes flashing a warning at Sylvie before softening on her son. “You’re lucky we found her when we did. She was about to be smothered to death by a demon when Kerensa portalled her here.”

So that’s what that was. Sylvie realised she was going insane as the Queen’s words made logical sense.

“Am I dead?” she asked, looking into Kian’s dark brown eyes. Huh, not just brown. Mulberry stripes lined the iris’.

He smiled softly. “No love, you are alive. This is my home, the castle you saw in the looking glass.”

“The artefact?”

“Yes.”

Sylvie’s heart thudded in her chest as her breathing quickened. “Are you saying this is- this place is-” She brought her free hand to her neck and tugged the fabric away as she overheated. “Where are we, Kian?”

He pulled her trembling body into his chest, and she instantly relaxed in his tender grip. His hand rubbed her back soothingly, and her breathing evened.

“This is a dream, right?” she sighed, letting her eyes flutter shut.

Her legs liquified, and she fell before a firm grip curled beneath her knees and hoisted her into a bridal-style carry.

She blinked slowly, watching Kian’s jaw twitch as he walked from the room to a different doorway than where she had entered.

“Nobody will harm or kill her while she is here, do you understand?” he boomed, his head swivelling to each corner of the room.

A collective hiss, “Yes,” filled her ears, and she shivered harder in his grip.

“This is a dream, right Kian?” she asked again, gripping his shirt.

“Shh.” He planted a soft kiss on her hairline, and her eyes grew heavier. “No, Princess. It is not.”

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