Faerie Godmother: Mythic Series, Book 1

Title Page

Copyright Page

Faerie Godmother (Mythic, #1)

Acknowledgements

Before You Begin

Chapter 1 – Something’s Different

Chapter 2 – Yep, Definitely Different

Chapter 3 – Whew, That Was a Close One

Chapter 4 – Looking for Answers

Chapter 5 - Busted

Chapter 6 – Come to My Web...

Chapter 7 – Another Offer

Chapter 8 – Bond, Vampire Bond

Chapter 9 – Under Watchful Eyes

Chapter 10 – Well, That Was Unexpected

Chapter 11 – So Much for Keeping Secrets

Chapter 12 – Ready or Not...

Chapter 13 – It Just Got Real

Chapter 14 – Into the Vampire’s Lair

Chapter 15 – Truth and Compromise

Chapter 16 – You Expect Me to Sleep Where?

Chapter 17 – It’s All Coming Back

Chapter 18 – On Pixies and Faeries and Battles

Chapter 19 – Don’t Mess with Destiny

Chapter 20 – HEA in 3, 2, 1...

Thanks for reading Vlane and Ana’s story

If you liked this book...

About the Author

Also by Abbie Zanders

Faerie Godmother

(Mythic Series #1)

A
mazing cover and series design by Marisa @ www.covermedarling.com

Stock photos from
www.depositphotos.com
and
www.pixabay.com

Professional editing by the incomparable M. E. Weglarz of megedits.com, a woman with a true gift for spotting plot holes, character anomalies, black holes, and other potential WTFs. Thank you, Meg, from the bottom of my heart.

And special thanks to some very special ladies – Anjee Zable, Heather Black, Kasey Belle, Tonya Baker, Maddie Wade, and C.E. Black (and a few of you who prefer to remain unnamed – you know who you are) - for agreeing to beta read this book and providing such wonderful feedback. This is a better story because of them!

... and THANK YOU to all of
you
for selecting this book. You didn’t have to, but you did.

F
aerie Godmother is the first book in my Mythic series. Each story is a full book in and of itself, a standalone story of paranormal romance with plenty of humor and emotion.

Within the pages, you will encounter vampires, shifters, angels, demons, fae, witches, mages, goddesses... just to name a few. It is only recently that these
Extraordinaries
, as they call themselves, coexist peacefully in the idyllic community of Mythic. Very few know of their existence; understandably, they prefer to keep to themselves. However, you’ve been granted a special look into the world of these amazing being. But be warned -—once you visit Mythic, you might not want to leave.

WARNING:  This book contains some adult language and situations, and is intended for mature (18+) readers only.

“T
here he is! Quick, grab his arms and help me drag him into the shade.”

Vlane heard the voices, but they were oddly muted and far away, as if someone had left that infernal box squawking in the other room again. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. Nor, it seemed, could he roll over. The previous night’s party event must have gone much better than expected if he was in this poor condition. He had no conscious memory of imbibing so heavily. Actually, he had no conscious memory of anything, really.

He felt an odd sensation, a stretching kind of pressure in his arms and legs. Was he on a rack, then? In the earlier days of his conversion, it had been one of his favorites. There was nothing quite like having your extremities pulled tight while an entire village doused you with holy water and tried to drive a stake into your heart, mistakenly believing piercing an already-dormant object would matter. Idiots.

Ah, he did miss the Middle Ages. A simpler time, really. Fewer choices. People weren’t as educated. Bloodline determined everything, but even across social barriers, there were some universal truths when it came to the undead. Topping that list: Vampires were immortal, barring beheading and being subsequently burned to ash, of course. Only a phoenix could survive
that
.

Another: Vampires were neither damned nor soulless. Many, in fact, were quite pious. They were simply a highly evolved form of a basic human, possessing greater strength, speed, and superior intelligence.

And, after hundreds of years of existence, even vampires could succumb to the inevitable drain of ennui.

It was the last that had begun to overshadow the benefits of the first two these past hundred years or so. Vlane’s life had become so predictable, so monotonous, even this slight variation (uncomfortable as it was) was welcome. A bit of pain always enhanced the mundane, as did anything that caused his quiescent neurons to start firing again. Pain, sex, strong emotions — all things Vlane had not personally experienced in a very long time.

Yes, he realized sadly, even this slight discomfort was welcome. If it had been an option, he might have preferred some rather vigorous sex. Though, after several centuries, even that had become rote and bromidic. Women – especially human women – were predictable, and often too frail to sate his carnal hungers adequately. He could follow Kristoff’s example and simply indulge in multiple women at one time, thus dividing his focus and subsequently making it easier for a human woman to tolerate, but that wasn’t really his style.

At heart, Vlane was an old-fashioned, one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy. In his romanticized ideal, it would be the same woman, over and over again, but alas, he had yet to encounter a single female he wanted to revisit once, let alone repeatedly. They were all the same — barring slight variations in physical appearance, of course. Not one had stood out, or called to him on a level deeper than his cock.

Which was rather disappointing after centuries and centuries of looking for the right one.

“Watch his head. Lift it. No, higher.”

A sharp stab of pain at the back of his head preceded a muttered curse (was that Latin?) and a sudden tug upward.

“Oh, sorry about that, Vlane.”

The jarring sensation he now felt across his buttocks was even less welcome than the stretching of his limbs. Was he being spanked? Vlane had enjoyed a good caning a time or two, but again, that was more Kristoff’s area of expertise. Of course, there was a heady rush to be found in a lush feminine behind blushing from a healthy caress. But this...this wasn’t nearly as enjoyable.

Then, just as suddenly, it stopped. The air felt cooler than it had been only a few minutes ago. The warm, almost-burning sensation across his face and neck faded quickly as the pulling and jarring ceased, leaving his rather bumped and bruised body gloriously still.

“Maybe he needs blood. Open your wrist, Kristoff.”

The voice of his long-time friend and sire, Armand, was both comforting and familiar. Something pushed against Vlane’s mouth an instant before a cool, metallic liquid began dripping down his throat. At first, it pleased him, and he latched onto the source greedily. But then he was gagging on it, finding the taste wholly foul and unpalatable.

“What the...?” That was definitely Kristoff, the youngest among them at a mere seventy-five. He caught himself before spewing the vulgar modern colloquialisms eschewed by older, more refined vamps. Vlane, eyes still closed, pushed blindly at Kristoff’s arm.

“What just happened?” inquired Armand, his angelic voice soft but decidedly clear. Vlane was vaguely aware of Armand leaning over his prone figure, using one of his coveted, centuries-old silk handkerchiefs to wipe at the blood now painting Vlane’s face.

“He pushed me away.” Kristoff rocked back on his knees, the voice tinged with disbelief and a touch of panic.

Armand, with the practiced calm of the gentle monk he was, slipped an arm beneath Vlane’s shoulders and lifted him to a slightly better angle. “He is delirious. Try again.”

Again, something pushed against Vlane’s lips. “Drink!” demanded a gruff male voice. Definitely Kristoff. Vlane didn’t care at all for his progeny’s tone.

He pushed it away again, more forcefully this time. As a five-hundred-year-old vampire, the strength of his shove should have sent the other male flying far away from him, but Kristoff barely moved. He didn’t even seem to notice.

“He doesn’t want it!”

“
Dios!
Move over, Kristoff. Let me see.”

Vlane heard the two males shifting around him. His senses were returning little by little. If he could only see...

His wish was granted when one of his eyelids was lifted and he found himself staring into the face of his housemate. Armand’s unnaturally black eyes opened wide as he peered down, though they appeared slightly out of focus, as if Vlane was viewing them through muted filters. His vision was not nearly as crisp and clear as it should have been, and the colors – those few he could discern - were noticeably less vivid.

In fact, none of his senses seemed to be working properly.

“
Dulcis et pia Christus
,” Armand breathed in his native Latin, sitting back on his heels as he made the sign of the cross. “Sweet and merciful Christ,” he repeated, in English.

“What? What is it?”

Armand turned to Kristoff, shock evident on his beatific face. “He is
human
...”

* * *

A
na always knew she was different. Some of her earliest memories were of sitting alone along the banks of the muddy rivers, perched or straddled along the high limbs of a tree, or, more recently, in the darkened living space behind the Mythic Sanctuary, a specialized facility catering to those creatures of an animalistic nature, particularly shifters. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people; she did. But over the years, she had learned that even the best intentioned among them could be seduced all too easily by the temptation she offered.

She was used to it, but it still hurt.

It often started so innocently, with well-meaning, sincere desires to do good — easing someone’s pain, bringing a bit of joy and hope to those who needed it most, making the world a better place. The trouble was, nothing ever came without a price. Even the most innocuous, seemingly trivial things had the potential to snowball into much bigger issues, often with unintended, far-reaching effects.

Most things, she had come to realize, even bad things, happened for a reason.

Ana was an inherently gentle soul. She did not want to hurt anyone, and never had, as far as she knew. On the contrary, her particular gift was exactly the opposite. Wherever she went, good fortune and prosperity followed.

Because Ana had the ability to grant wishes.

Oh, not any wish. There were some rules, limits imposed by whatever power had granted her the unusual ability in the first place. But there was very little she couldn’t do. And over the years, her mysterious power had only grown. The issue was never whether she
could
alter a situation, but if she
should
.

Then again, sometimes the matter was completely out of her hands.

Ana brought the pads of her fingers to her neck. It was still tender where the dark, handsome stranger punctured her jugular. She’d only been bitten once before, when Bobby Houlihan had come into the diner where she worked with his much younger niece and a couple of girls from her dance class. Good looking, with wavy, blond hair and a shy smile, Bobby had asked her out to the movies when she came to take his order.

Apparently, Casey Martin, younger sibling of Shelly Martin, who everyone knew had a rather unhealthy obsession with Bobby, didn’t think that was such a good idea and expressed her opinion by biting Ana’s forearm (the Martins weren’t the most stable-minded family in the small town, which might explain why Bobby never quite got around to asking Shelly out).

Casey hadn’t collapsed on the ground after biting her like the dark, handsome stranger had. But at least Ana didn’t go into seizures this time. Clearly, the vampire –
if
that’s what he was – had not bitten her with the same malicious intent young Casey had. The sensations Ana had experienced at the dark stranger’s hands had been much,
much
different.

Under normal circumstances, Ana had complete control over her gift. She could regulate what, if any, wish would be granted and the extent of it. If someone wished for money, for example, she could gift them with five dollars or five million. But when someone took Ana’s blood,
they
became the ones in control of the wish. Their deepest, most heartfelt desires in those crucial moments, whatever they were, came to be.