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  Sacrificed

  Nancy Corrigan

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  Wild Hunt Dictionary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter Five, plus next book preview

  Also by Nancy Corrigan

  Please Read

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  …intriguing and original

  The Library Journal on the Wild Hunt series

  In the game of good vs. evil, the Devil unleashes… Hell

  They call him the Devil, Satan, Lucifer…a monster. He answers to anything, but if you ask him, he'll tell you the truth. His name is Arawn, Lord of the Underworld, and he's made a mistake. He fell in love and neglected his duties. Now, the Unseelie Court is terrorizing the human world, and innocents are suffering.

  Righting his wrong won't happen without a sacrifice. Arawn knows that. The woman who holds his heart and soul knows that. Neither will like the price he has to pay to ensure the Unseelie Court is returned to the lowest pits of the Underworld.

  But nobody ever said being the devil was easy. Luckily, Arawn knows a thing or two about hell… and love.

  Arawn's story does not have a happy ending. It doesn't even have a safe ending, but the devil has a plan to turn his mistake into a victory. Come join him on the Wild Hunt for a blistering, twisted fairy tale of love, betrayal, mystery, and redemption.

  Wild Hunt Dictionary

  Huntsmen – the immortal riders of the Wild Hunt; also known as the Teulu

  Teulu – family of Hunters; members consist of the bastard children of Arawn, Lord of the Underworld, and those humans invited to ride in the Wild Hunt

  Wild Hunt – the endless nightly hunt of those beings infected by Chaos

  Chaos – the raw power from which the world was formed; disorder in its purest form

  Fairy – an otherworldly creature; either Seelie or Unseelie

  Seelie – a fairy who is “good” or “pure”

  Unseelie – a Seelie who has either willing or unwilling been infected with Chaos; a fairy who is “bad” or “evil”

  Seelie Fairy Court – the ruling faction of the Seelies; no known members; once led by Dagda

  Unseelie Fairy Court – the ruling faction of the Unseelies; included are the Unseelies and the redcaps; led by Dar (formerly known as Dagda)

  Redcap – a human who has sold his soul to an Unseelie in exchange for immortality and power; leaders of the Unseelie Fairy Court’s army of sluaghs

  Sluagh – the walking dead; a human who has been tricked into a redcap’s fairy ring

  Glamour – the magic of the fairies (both Seelie and Unseelie)

  Chapter One

  The greatest game of all time starts now, and the devil is making the first move.

  Author’s Note: This is a short story that introduces the Devil and the beginnings of the Wild Hunt.

  This story does NOT end in a happily ever after.

  However, every other book in this series will end with a happy, forever love.

  Screams reverberated inside Arawn’s head. He knew the story behind each one, had shared in their agony, and had experienced their deaths. All had been avenged. None would be forgotten. It was his gift and a reminder of why he oversaw the punishment of the corrupt.

  Or so the Triad had told him the day he was chosen as the Lord of the Underworld. The day he was sacrificed to Hell.

  Damned and forgotten.

  Hands clenched, he strode across the balcony of his fortress. At the railing, he stopped and swept his gaze over his realm. The endless barren landscape offered little in the way of scenery or comfort. It wasn’t meant to give any.

  The unfortunate beings who found themselves on the desolate plains stayed only long enough to be judged before moving to the lower sections of Hell, where they faced their eternal punishment. The nine shimmering portals dotting the horizon provided access to each level.

  He studied the barriers, looking for any additional signs of deterioration. All remained secured. He nodded, pleased that his efforts to mend them had found some measure of success. The horrors and inhabitants contained within the Underworld could not be released, not ever again.

  The demon sentinels who guarded the gateways understood the dangers and the penalties if they failed in their role. Arawn had made sure of it, and those who obeyed his command were richly rewarded. Few offered him their allegiance, however. They were demons after all, and he was a god.

  Revered, envied, feared, and…

  Blessed.

  Arawn cracked his jaw. The knowledge that he was the Triad’s favored servant, the one chosen to act as its hand in the never-ending battle against evil, didn’t comfort him or make his endless existence worthwhile. Only one thing did… One person, actually.

  Minerva.

  Silver hair and eyes, the face an angel, and the body of a succubus—she was beautiful. As a goddess of love, she was expected to be gorgeous. He craved her touch, savored her every kiss, and found heaven each time he joined their bodies.

  He closed his eyes and conjured her face, allowing the wonder she bestowed upon him to seize him. The screeches and moans echoing within him faded to murmurs. He sighed in relief. Peace filled him. Fleeting, yes. The second her image slipped from the forefront of his mind, the endless anguish he experienced would return.

  He treasured the moment. It would have to last. What he planned would take his personal heaven from him, at least for a little while.

  He didn’t want to lose her. He had no other choice, however. His wrong in allowing the evil to escape Hell had to be righted, no matter the cost. Like a plague, the unholy beings scavenging on the humans in the mortal realm were multiplying and infecting the innocents, turning them into unspeakable creatures. They could not be allowed to spread more.

  Arawn knew this. He accepted the responsibility to curtail the evil infecting the human world. The rationalization wouldn’t erase the sin he would soon commit, nor did it justify his past actions. His justification was all he had to give his mate, however.

  It wasn’t enough. Nothing was.

  On a weary exhale, he opened his eyes, letting Minerva’s image scatter, lost to his memory. The endless expanse of the Underworld greeted him. The shrieks and pleas of victims returned, ten times worse than they had gripped him before. Dots spread over his vision, and the pressure behind his eyes built. He breathed through the sensation until the dizziness passed. One more deep inhale, and he steadied himself, pushing back the weakness only Minerva knew about.

  He turned his back on the domain he’d been tasked to oversee and made his way inside, each step slower than the last. Choices, past and present, weighed him down. They couldn’t be ignored, however. He’d picked his path, and the consequences of his decision were inescapable.

  At his office, he straightened his spine, then flung the door open.

  Lucas, the Demon King, stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze on Minerva’s portrait. He glanced over his shoulder. His plain brown eyes held curiosity. “You summoned me?”

  Arawn shut the door behind him. “I am leaving the Underworld, and I want you to maintain my rule while I’m gone.”

  Lucas raised a brown brow, the only sign of his shock. “And how do you plan to pull off such a feat? You are tied to this realm, as I am.”

  “Through my mate’s connection to the heavens.” Minerva just didn’t know she’d be helping him yet.

  “I see.” Lucas faced Minerva’s portrait. “She plans to leave the Underworld too? I thought she’d vowed to remain here under your”—he cleared his throat—“protection.”

  Protection. Arawn almost snorted at the demon’s word choice. None of the creatures in the Underworld would dare harm Minerva. No, it wasn’t protection Arawn offered her but relief. Within his realm of desolation, she thrived.

  “She will remain here, and you will distract her from the unfortunate side effect of her position.”

  “I am an incubus.” A leering grin spread over Lucas’s ordinary face. “The only comfort I can give is sex.”

  Arawn didn’t bother responding to the demon’s taunting. For one, Arawn didn’t doubt his mate’s love or fidelity. More importantly, he knew what Lucas wanted above all else, and it had nothing to do with sex.

  “Do so, and I will revoke my pardon. You and your flock will descend into the lowest pits of Hell.”

  Lucas stepped forward, body tensed and hands balled into fists. “You need me to corral all the demon species. I am their king. You promised—”

  “I promised nothing. Fear kept the lesser demons in check before you arrived. It will do so again if you lose your position. Do not forget why you were sentenced here.” Arawn motioned toward the body Lucas inhabited. “Or our deal.”

  Lucas’s nostrils flared on his rough inhales. Finally, he cursed. “So be it.”

  “Good.” Arawn nodded. “Until I return, then.”

  He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Lucas behind in his temporary office.

  “You plan to stop Dagda?”

  The mention of his enemy sent a wave of anger through Arawn. Sharpened nails punched from the ends of his fi
ngers. Fangs descended, and his jaw lengthened. He embraced the change, allowing the black, scaled beast feared by the humans to claim him. His massive wings unfolded. One flap, then two, and he closed the distance between himself and the demon who focused on Arawn’s wings, envy darkening his eyes.

  Arawn crouched and tipped up Lucas’s chin with a curled talon. “That name is not to be spoken. Dagda is dead.”

  “The fairy king is not dead.” Lucas narrowed his eyes. “He is Dar now, leader of the Unseelie Court, and transformed into a being even the Triad cannot touch.”

  Arawn leaned closer. “Diseased, not transformed.”

  He shoved the other male. Lucas flew backward and hit the desk, knocking over the wooden table. Scrolls and tomes fell. A crystal decanter followed. The bottle smashed, spilling wine over the millennium-old works. Neither of them glanced at the ruined pieces. Their gazes remained locked.

  “Diseased, yes.” Lucas pushed to his feet. “But be mindful of your words. Dagda is not dead, nor is he weak. He grows stronger every day, and soon he will make good on his promise.”

  To unleash his entire Court upon the mortal realm. Only Arawn stood in Dagda’s way.

  Arawn allowed his winged form to recede and met Lucas’s accusing glare. Arawn didn’t bother arguing. The demon was right. Instead, Arawn offered the other male the one thing that would guarantee he carried out Arawn’s order without question—hope.

  “I will return soon. Maintain my realm, and I will revoke my hold over you. You will no longer need to fear punishment at my hand.”

  Lucas sucked in a breath. “You vow it.”

  A vise squeezed Arawn’s chest and a sense of foreboding settled over him, but he knew it could not be avoided. Lucas was the only male Arawn trusted enough not only to oversee the workings of the Underworld but to guard the destructive powers it contained.

  Arawn nodded. “I vow it.”

  “And my followers? Do you vow not to punish them?”

  “No, demon.” Arawn laughed. “I do not.”

  “But they are innocent. They—”

  “They followed your lead. Stupidity landed them in Hell. I cannot take the chance their poor judgment will affect my holdings. Keep them in check, and they will continue to live freely in my world.”

  Lucas lifted a lip, but no sound accompanied his enraged expression.

  “Do you agree?” Arawn asked. There could be no misunderstandings. Too many lives depended on it.

  “I agree to maintain your law as you have set forth, to comfort your mate as if she was my own, and to ensure the creatures you’ve restrained here do not slip through the damaged gateway to the human realm. Is that enough?”

  Arawn gave a single dip of his chin, then pivoted on his heel and strode down the hall.

  “What is your plan?”

  Lucas’s question stopped Arawn’s steps. He glanced over his shoulder. “I will build an army capable of hunting the corrupted fairies in the mortal world.”

  The same curiosity that had damned Lucas and landed him in Hell bled into his eyes. He tilted his head. “And how do plan to accomplish that feat?”

  By sacrificing the one thing his beloved mate yearned for. “You need not concern yourself over my plans. It is between me and the Triad.”

  Lucas grunted. “Then prepare to lose everything.”

  Arawn turned and continued down the corridor without responding. He feared the demon was right.

  And it was his own fault. He chose love over duty.

  Chapter Two

  Arawn jogged the flight of stairs to the tower Minerva had claimed as her private sanctuary. Each step quieted the screams reverberating in his head. The weight on his shoulders lessened, and peace filled him. Love mixed with his gratitude for the relief she offered him. He let the softer emotion swell his chest and strengthen him. He would need it for the days ahead.

  At the top of the winding stairwell, a heavy oak door blocked the inhabitants of the Underworld from the entrance to Heaven. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and listened. The gut-wrenching sound of her sobs reached him, faint but unmistakable. A difficult and self-centered woman, Minerva was often viewed as cold by those who didn’t know her. Arawn knew her, and he understood her pain.

  Love hurt. The more people she allowed into her heart, the more she bled.

  He opened the door. Minerva sat in the center of the room, her head on her knees and arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

  Thick white candles encircled her. Within the ring, green grass formed a soft carpet—her dominion. Beyond the burning tapers, cold stone made up the floor of his domain, the one she preferred.

  Duty demanded she play the role she’d been chosen to fill, despite the repercussions to her. His love for her required he save her from the heartache she experienced while satisfying her obligation. He couldn’t, however. She was meant to bleed for love lost, just as he was meant to live with the screams of the wronged echoing in his head. The best he could give his mate was a shoulder to cry on and his touch. Only he could deaden her pain.

  He shut the door behind him. The click resounded in the room. She lifted her head and met his gaze. Swirling lines of molten silver set off her piercing gray eyes. From them, silver tears formed twin trails down her cheeks.

  “My love.” She held out her hand. More droplets of silver dripped from her palm where she’d dug her nails into her flesh.

  He went to her, stepping over the tiny flames, then dropped to his knees. With care, he cradled her injured hand and brought it to his mouth. He licked away her spilled blood, healing the wounds and taking her agony into himself.

  He met her gaze. “Tell me of the lovers who have caused your suffering.”

  “Not merely lovers. Souls paired by my hand. Events have ripped them apart tonight. One has died. The other mourns.” She turned tired eyes on him. “And I am once again crying for them so they may have another chance.”

  He sat on the soft grass and lifted her, settling her over his lap.

  “They are old souls?” They had to be. The Triad took away her ability to pair mates a millennium ago. Arawn didn’t know why. She’d never shared the reason with him. Since he refused to disclose his arrangement with the demons, he had no right to demand her secrets.

  “One of the first seventeen.”

  He closed his eyes on a long exhale, finally comprehending her pain. “One of your handmaidens.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and laid her damp cheek against his chest. “Yes. My third maiden.”

  “I am sorry.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Did she get to spend a lifetime with her male?”

  Minerva leaned back and glared at him. Rage turned her eyes into glowing silver discs. “A single night.”

  She shoved from his embrace and strode to the edge of the circle. The moment she stepped over the boundary of the ring, the blades of grass withered. Her hair darkened. The swirling lines of molten silver turned black. And fury clung to her where moments ago softer emotions had.

  Her outward appearance reflected her soul, and in this moment, she embodied the darker aspects of the love. Those facets made people paint the earth in the blood of their enemies who dared harmed those they loved. Only revenge soothed Minerva when she got like this. Arawn understood his mate well enough to know she’d get retribution too.

  Love could be as gruesome as it was beautiful and was probably the most fearsome force in the world. It was no wonder the other gods handled Minerva with care. None wanted her vengeance focused on them.

  With a wave of her hand, the candles tipped, igniting the brittle grass. Flames raced toward him. He stood but didn’t rush to escape the fire singeing his feet. He couldn’t die, not permanently at least, and pain meant little to him.