Stolen Love (YA Paranormal Novella) Read online

  Stolen Love

  Song of the Sídhí #3

  YA Paranormal Romance

  By Jodie B. Cooper

  Copyright 2011

  License Notes

  Thank you for purchasing this e-book. This e-book is licensed for your personal use only. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  __________

  I Thank God

  Without God’s grace this book would not be possible.

  “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”

  PHILIPPIANS 4:13 (KJV)

  __________

  NOTE: Story contains sexual content/innuendo and mild language.

  Recommended reading: 17+

  Stolen: Song of the Sídhí #3 – 22,000 words

  Glossary of Sídhí Terms – 2,200 words

  Character List – 200 words

  Preview of Forbidden Temptation of a Vampire - 1,825 words

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Spiced Cider

  Stolen

  Murder

  Cabin on the Lake

  Mistake

  Death

  Heat of the Moment

  Payback Time

  Preview: Forbidden Temptation of a Vampire

  Glossary of Sídhí Terms

  List of Characters: Stolen

  Spiced Cider

  Everyone told me I didn't have a chance to win the coveted internship at VPS, short for Valley Production Studio, home of the wildly popular TV show Lives of Rich & Famous Sídhí. Honestly, I agreed with them. They had thousands of applicants from dozens of universities and the coveted internship always went to a senior or someone working on their master degree, but not this year.

  I knew it was either luck or my guardian angel was working overtime when VPS picked me, the first freshman to ever win the internship. To add icing on the cake when the VPS senior production assistant, Jessica Hathaway, called to tell me the good news she promised me an entire ten minute solo interview during the highly anticipated Top Ten Sídhí Bachelors.

  I was on cloud nine!

  I took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to calm my racing thoughts. My brain didn't pay me any attention.

  One thing I knew for certain, rain, shine, or frigid temps, I needed to work on my tan. And I wasn't going to a tanning booth. I detested the wretched things. Not surprising since the first time I tried one I ended-up looking like a red-skinned raccoon. Anyway, my avoidance of manmade sunshine meant lots of sunbathing.

  Mundane humans were so clueless. They actually thought vampires went poof in direct sunshine. Ha, yeah right. Count Drac so totally warped the true aspect of vampires.

  My insides jittered, making me think of a vibrator strapped to my chest and turned on high. I sucked in another gulp of oxygen then did it again. It didn't help. At this rate, I'd be lucky if I didn't hyperventilate this Saturday during orientation.

  I shook my head trying to clear it. All right, first things first I needed a tan. With that goal in mind, I grabbed a bag of Doritos, a bottle of water, and my all-time favorite Martin's bag. Taking the stairs at a trot, I took a quick detour to my room then headed toward my parent's balcony.

  They had the most awesome view of the surrounding Rocky Mountains; tall and forbidding they sparked my imagination every time I saw them.

  My mountains, as I thought of them, provided numerous backdrops for the short stories I wrote. Creative writing class nearly busted my chops before I latched onto the mountains for inspiration. Truly, they held my undivided attention for hours at a time.

  Watching the yard next door was the only thing that had a chance of pulling me away from dreaming about my mountains. I found it sadly ironic that Eric, my next-door neighbor didn't have the same fixation.

  I opened the lace covered French door and the brisk March wind turned me inside out in a heartbeat. Shivering, I nearly did a U-turn. Leaning forward, I stuck my nose past the doorframe. The fresh, very cold air smacked me in the face.

  Grumbling under my breath, I tried convincing myself to step over the threshold. I so hated cold weather. Summer couldn't get here fast enough to suit me. I could already hear the Jet Ski at Lake Andrews calling my name.

  Steeling my nerve, I stepped outside and stripped off my bulky green sweats, uncovering three tiny blue pieces of material. Killer of all bikinis, it was my favorite for showing off my post-puberty boobs and tiny waist.

  Cold air hit every uncovered spot of flesh, which was ninety-five percent of my body.

  Holy crap! I managed not to squeal aloud as chill bumps burst into life, covering me from head-to-toe, puckering parts of me that shouldn't be puckered without help. My teeth chattered and I glared at the cloudy sky.

  The weatherman promised sunny skies, give me a paint gun and I'd splatter him for getting my hopes up.

  Undecided, my chest rumbled with a soft growl. I couldn't tan without sunshine. The toasty warm house called me. My jaw ached from chattering teeth. I turned to go in, but a splash of color caught my eye. Glancing past the roof of the house, to the far South there was a thin ribbon of blue sky.

  It would heat up when the sun came out, but I'd surely turn blue, before golden. I had to be insane. I shifted from foot to foot, wondering if I should visit DaKine Valley. Since its second dimensional footprint covered Hawaii, I knew it would be sunny and hot.

  Thinking of DaKine, I groaned, wanting to make a quick trip. The islands would be hot. All that glorious sunshine soaking into my skin made my heart race. Yeah that would be great, but the downside outweighed the upside. If I went solo outside Clan Valley, I took the chance of losing my head, quite literally.

  I sighed with regret, knowing a trip outside Clan Valley wasn’t an option. Last week, Clan Council issued another travel warning urging people not to travel beyond the protection of Clan Valley or one of our sister valleys. The warning accompanied the horrific result of a recent Elf Hunt.

  I shuddered, shoving the graphic image of dead bodies out of my mind.

  I settled onto the chaise lounger; the one nearest the white railing. Movement in the yard next door caught my eye.

  Eric, my former best friend, walked across his back deck. My heart lurched at the sight of him. After eight years of being my very best friend, he could make me laugh at anything, knowing when to comfort and when to tease me.

  I missed him so much it hurt. Watching him through the wide slats, I wished he'd talk to me, but I knew it was wishful thinking on my part.

  He was only sixteen months younger than I was, but it seemed like a hundred. I couldn't understand his sudden dislike of me to save me. One day, without warning he had stopped talking to me. To say it hurt was an awful understatement.

  He stopped in the middle of the deck, looking toward my house. His forehead crinkled and I saw a deep yearning in his eyes. He took a step forward then stopped. His scrawny shoulders slumped and he shook his head. Strands of dark red hair flopped in his eyes.

  My heart raced, thundering in my ears. Could he miss me as much as I missed him?

  Three months ago, after I went through Sídhí puberty - twenty-one days of going from stick-thin to beach bunny - he started ignoring me, avoiding me as if I had grown two heads or had the plague or something.

  Yeah, he dropped contact with me so fast my head spun. When it first happened, I thought he must be angry about something. You know some teenage boy thing that had his shorts in a twist. I tried talking to him, but he would turn and stomp away every time.

  I snorted in disgust at the memory.
Ignoring me royally ticked me off. Before long, anytime I saw him I stormed off in the opposite direction without another word.

  Now, here he was looking like he was the one who had been dumped.

  From my vantage point, I watched him gulp a couple of times. From his desolate, scrunched-up face, I couldn't help but wonder if he missed me. Maybe he was as miserable as I was.

  I hoped so.

  Ugh, that sounded horrid. I couldn't help it. We'd been connected at the hip ever since his family moved in next door. If I wasn't at his house then he was at mine. I really missed him.

  I hesitated, but I had to try. Butterflies stirred my stomach. I stood and leaned over the wood railing. “Hey Eric, what's up?”

  His head jerked up, looking straight at me. Gray-green eyes grew wide. The pause lasted a whole two seconds. Giving me a brief wave of his hand, his voice squeaked as he said my name, “Katrina, sorry, got to run. I'm late.”

  Before I could respond, he turned and rushed through the back door of his white clapboard home. I caught the aroma of hot, spiced cider on the upward breeze. Hot and delicious spiced with cinnamon. My mouth watered as I sat frozen in time, unable to move if my life had depended on it.

  The moment his eyes met mine the synth crystal lacing my blood bloomed into life, singing the Song of the Sídhí. I sucked for oxygen and air hissed through my clenched teeth, burning its way into my ice-cold lungs. It didn't seem to help my dazed reaction.

  Reality, ever so slowly, dawned on me: My body's synth crystal marked Eric as my lifeMate.

  For a full minute, I sat with my eyes glued to the door willing him to open it. It didn't work. For what seemed like a lifetime, the weird song continued humming through my blood, heating me from the inside out and giving me the shivers.

  Instinctively, I knew his synth crystal hadn't sung for me, not yet anyway. His crystal might not sing for a day or a year, but one day it would sing and name me as his lifeMate.

  As a Sídhí, I had a single chance for a lifeMate. He was mine and I was his.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, wanting nothing more than to rush over and hug him. I wanted to tell him that he was my lifeMate. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him that I'd secretly loved him for years, but I couldn't.

  Until his synth sang for me, I had to remain silent. It was one of the oldest of Sídhí laws. Not a law proclaimed by the council, but a law of common sense and tradition. No one messed with it, not even denizens of the Dhark Valley screwed around when it came to finding a lifeMate. A true mate was simply too precious.

  I jumped up and was halfway down the stairs before remembering I had on a skimpy bikini. I raced back upstairs, yanked my sweats on, and snatched up my black Martin's bag. Grabbing the wood railing, I pitched myself over it, lightly hitting the ground and rushed next door as if my very life depended on it.

  In a way, it did. More than one study had revealed unmated Sídhí had a 99.999% chance of going insane over their lifetime. Sídhí weren't completely stable until they mentally bonded with their lifeMate.

  Telling Eric my synth sang for him wasn't possible, but there was no law or tradition saying I couldn't talk to him.

  I reached for the door and paused, mentally preparing myself, but I still didn't know what to say. My mind went blank, totally wiped clean of all thoughts. What could I say?

  My shoulders sagged. I thought I was so brilliant. Top in my speech class and my brain collapses into empty silence. Swallowing yet another lump lodged in my throat, I knocked on the dark blue steel door. A shudder of apprehension raced through me. Six months ago, I would've knocked and barged straight in, snatching up whatever baked goodies sat on the counter, grabbing one for me and another for Eric.

  Vampire hearing had benefits. I heard soft footsteps approach the door. They didn't hesitate, moving swiftly past the kitchen table.

  Eric's mom opened the door. “Hi, Katrina,” she said. A large smile crossed her face as she opened the door wider, ushering me inside out of the brisk air. “We've missed having you around.”

  “Yeah, I've really missed coming over, but Eric didn't... I mean, I didn't…” I stopped my stuttered explanations and expelled a breath of pent-up frustration. I didn't know how to explain my absence to a woman who had treated me like a daughter, a woman who would very soon be my mother-in-law.

  “You don't need to say anything more. I understand. I wondered which of you would break first, but I really thought it'd be him. He watches your house constantly.” She shrugged her shoulders, her deep auburn hair, nearly identical to her son's, brushed below her chin.

  “Good," I said, glancing beyond her and up the rear stair case. "I mean it's good that he misses me, because I really miss him.”

  “I'm sorry he's not here.”

  “He's not?” I winced at the disbelief in my voice. I was batting a thousand and not getting anywhere. “I just saw him on the deck. That turkey butt knew I'd be over here.”

  She chuckled. “I thought he seemed terribly anxious to go to the movies.”

  “Which theater?”

  She tilted her head slightly, studying me.

  I guess I must've sounded a bit too demanding. I released a pent-up sigh. “Sorry, I just really want to see him.”

  “Uh huh, I understand. They're going to Fangtastic Cinema, but I'm sure they'll stop at Martin's first."

  I thanked her and ported, appearing directly in front of Martin's Candy Shop. The cool breeze didn't seem as cold as it carried an incredible burst of heavenly smells. Chocolate, caramel, and every kind of sweet imaginable caressed my acute sense of smell.

  Glancing around, anticipation grew in the pit of my stomach. I loved the place, but I hadn't been to the movies since Eric stopped talking to me. Fangtastic was one of our favorite hangouts. The memories of us laughing together haunted me.

  I missed Martin's more than the theatre. Every entertainment complex that Fangtastic Cinema built included a humongous candy store. Martin's carried everything: Snickers from the mundane world, fairy popsicles that didn't drip, the most awesome elf fudge (the one thing elves actually did right,) a hot serve counter that had sundaes, cakes, cookies, apples and caramel... sigh, I could go on all day long about Martin's but I had more important business on my mind.

  There wasn't a large crowd of people. No, long lines would come later in the day. Looking around, I easily found Eric accepting some money from his dad. At six foot seven, Richard Kent towered over his youngest son. No doubt about it, once Eric hit puberty he'd be just as big.

  The thought froze me where I stood. When I cared for someone, I never noticed what they looked like.

  Until that very moment, I'd never really noticed how small he was, but in that blink of time it dawned on me why my synth crystal sang when Eric's remained silent. At a month shy of seventeen, he was still a scrawny pre-pub with narrow shoulder blades, stick-thin legs, and few inches over five feet tall. He didn't look seventeen.

  Since I'd already gone through puberty I looked older than him, much older than the mere year and a half I really was. Not that age meant anything, not for a Sídhí. Synth crystal always created the perfect lifeMate pair, matching two perfectly compatible people that would love each other for thousands of years.

  Among the Sídhí, whether it was a few years or a couple thousand years, age difference between mates was no big deal. Still, it made sense that someone past puberty could hurt a pre-pub.

  I groaned, knowing he might not hit puberty for years. My friend, Samantha, was twenty-one and she still hadn't gone through puberty.

  If his synth didn't sing for me until he hit puberty I'd die, just die. How would I get through it? A year or even two years of yearning for my mate, knowing he was right next door, but still a pre-pub would be horrid. I couldn't even tell him. Talk about torture!

  If I had access to one of the Ancient Ones, I'd twist their wretched head off for playing around with my insides.

  Already my body was demanding I be near Eric. Ev
en before he ran from me, my synth went nuts for him. The push at my brain grew worse with each moment that went by. Oh, don't get me wrong, I understood the mental compulsion was a chemical reaction.

  A stupid chemical reaction created by eldest Ancient One. He had tried to play Supreme Being by manipulating the synth before he infected the Sídhí with it.

  Yeah, the lifeBud, the physical organ nestled in the center of my head, which allowed two mates to mentally bond was releasing synth-laced chemicals, causing a chain reaction within me. Weird organ, weirder chemicals.

  Once my synth crystal sang for Eric, the blood coursing through my body kicked into overdrive. I yearned to be near him with increasing intensity and I didn't mean sex. The thought of touching him sexually made me slightly nauseous; no doubt, another chemical reaction created to protect a pre-pub from a post-puberty mate.

  My hands clenched and unclenched, impatiently waiting for the chance to approach him. My skin felt like it was going to crawl off me. The chemicals building in my body just kept multiplying. They would continue increasing until I touched his skin. When I finally got the chance to touch him, I would absorb the antidote his body released; a chemical specifically created to neutralize my own chemical imbalance.

  Blast it! At this point I'd be happy to hear his voice. The urge to hunt him down was driving me slightly loopy. Just kill me and get it over with!

  I tapped my toe impatiently waiting for his dad to port back to his house. The thought no sooner left my head than Richard glanced up and winked at me.

  I grimaced and gave him a half-wave as he disappeared from the sidewalk.

  Eric didn't notice the exchange. He was too busy looking at the various window displays, no not displays, a single window captivated his attention.

  Ugh! When had Martin's started carrying bugs? An entire ten foot section was promoting the newest arrivals: Buckets overflowed with chocolate covered crickets & grubs, globs of cotton candy with spiders and flies spun together, sugar coated sprites (three-inch insects that had a humanoid shape with sparkling wings) hung from the ceiling... the list went on.