by
On tour with The Rade, music’s-out-and-proud glam rock darlings, drummer Wren is having the time of their life. That is, until their worst knocker-fae nightmare suddenly happens: They’re sucked off stage and into a witch’s summoning circle mid-show. A powerful binding keeps them from leaving their enthraller’s side, and the annoyingly hot witch claims it’s all just a mistake. But since when has a human ever passed up the chance to use fairy magic for their own financial gain?
August Minotte should’ve been trained as a hereditary witch, but instead he was forbidden to use the grimoires his infamous grandmother left him. The Minottes lost a huge fortune for mysterious reasons, and now Augie’s barely keeping his head—and his dwindling family—above water. When he finds a spell to get back their lost riches, he’s just desperate enough to use it. Then the spell summons and enthralls a beautiful, spicy fairy rockstar instead delivering a long-lost pile of money.
They’ll both have to face their families’ dark histories to set Wren free. Then, and only then, they can think about acting on all this pent-up attraction that’s driving them both absolutely wild.
Publisher: JMS Books, LLC
Genres:
Pairings: M-NB
Character Identities: Bisexual, Non Binary, Pansexual, Transgender
Tropes: Famous / Not Famous, Forced Proximity, Found Family, Interracial Relationship
Word Count: 45000
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters
“Fuck,” Wren muttered, head spinning. They tried to open their eyes, but it was too bright, so they squeezed shut again.
Oh. Oh fuck, had they passed out on stage? They’d felt fine when they’d gone on. The show had been amazing. They hadn’t been using any magic or doing anything wild…had they?
“Ohfuck ohmyGod ohfuck,” someone said in a low, panicked voice nearby.
READ MORE
“Shh,” Wren hissed as stars exploded behind their closed eyelids. Every sound was like a rusty knife stabbed into their eyeballs. No, a hot rusty knife. Covered in acid. “Headache.”
Wren never got headaches. Like, literally never. Most fae didn’t, but for a knocker, a fae who spent most of their time underground literally banging on shit, that would be horrible. Which Wren, having their first headache ever at the moment, now understood perfectly.
“OhmyGod I’msosorry ohmyGod.” But the voice was whispering now, at least.
“S’better,” Wren muttered. “Icepick.” Like being stabbed with an icepick in the eyeball. Fuck, how did humans with migraines do this shit on the regular? Literal fucking torture.
“OhmyGod oh my fuck…” The voice kept going but it was quieter and more distant, so that was fine. For the moment.
It wasn’t a familiar voice, though. Shouldn’t it be their bandmates or Gerry freaking out over them right now? And where did the crowd go? It should’ve been louder—which, like good thing it wasn’t, but it was weird. The whole soundscape had changed with that flash of light.
Wren clutched at their drumsticks, relieved to feel them still in hand. But otherwise…was that wood under their face? Where the fuck was there wood on the stage? Or even in the dressing room, if someone had brought them there?
As these thoughts and more swirled through Wren’s mind, the pain in their head subsided slowly but surely, leaving a hollow ache behind. Tentatively, Wren opened their eyes a slit, then all the way. They were in…a house? An apartment? Curled on a beat-up hardwood floor, and there was a bunch of white stuff in a circle around them.
Wren sat up straight, head spinning. Now it was their turn to swear, “What the fuck!” But yep. Yep, they were in someone’s tiny-ass living room in the center of some witch’s fucking protective circle. All the hairs on their arms and legs stood up straight at the thought, the idea that they’d somehow just been summoned by a witch.
That was never, in the history of knocker-fae, Wren’s Underground fae folk, a good thing. It was always bad.
COLLAPSEFor content warnings, please see kateyhawthorne.com!
