Free Bound by Faerie: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Stolen Magic Book 1) by WB McKay Page B

features. His lips transitioned from a boyish grin to a gaping maw, then settled into a grim line. "You're not McKenzie. "
    "Who the hell is McKenzie?" I asked, hoping to buy a moment of confusion so I could think up a plan. There was no point in denying it; I didn't know how well he knew her. As much as I'd been worried he'd figure things out, I should have had a plan for what I'd do when it happened.
    "She's the girl I thought I was bringing back to my room," he retorted, eyes narrowing . "Who the hell are you?"
    "That's for me to know and you to never find out." And that was enough of a plan for me. I snatched the book from his hand, opened my mouth, and unleashed my magic with a scream. As my volume increased, so did my magic, building into an ear destroying shriek. I didn't know anyone else who could do that; it was a violent twist on the banshee's cry. Maybe his book would give me some answers, though I doubted it if his look of confusion was anything to go by.
    Eyes rolling, he clutched his head in vain. Between the magic and the noise, hands had never been successful blocking me out. My sisters found that out the hard way when I went through the terrible twos.
    Owen sank to his knees. This—this was why I needed the book. Uselessly, I felt the urge to explain it to him. Like that would lessen the transgression. My magic caused misery and death. Who knew what other horrors I was capable of? I had to figure out how to control my magic once and for all, because someone wielding magic that caused such pain should know how to control it. That wasn't something I would ever tell people though. I couldn't expect anyone to understand, especially not some rich nightclub owner I had crying on the floor. Blood leaked between the fingers covering his ears. Good night, Owen. His eyes rolled back in his head.
    I snapped my mouth closed, hoping he had his bedroom shielded for sound. Otherwise, the staff he surely employed would knock down the door any second.
    I knew I should bolt before he woke, or someone came in and caught me. And I would have, if I hadn't seen another book I'd been coveting for years on the next shelf. The kind of information on different types of Unseelie fae and their magic that could get a girl killed just for asking about it. On Unseelie Fae was often cited as the ultimate reference guide, and the pinnacle of rare books. The fae were notoriously cagey about their abilities and limitations. Most copies of the book were destroyed. It might hold the answers about my ball of death if Life of the Phantom Queen didn't.
    What's one more book in the scheme of things, really? More moral bargaining, I knew, but my more logical side was drowned out by the sweet music of covetousness. My hand reached out, and just like that, I was a goner. Snatching the book from the shelf unleashed my covetous side like water breaking through a dam. There was no reigning it in. Good Sophie, that's what you can tell the judge when you're arrested . Before I knew it, I had an armload of books I wanted to keep and a couple I wanted to sell. If I could make myself. I was already making excuses for keeping them all. I really do have the room. If I got rid of the sofa, I could f it another shelf in the living room. A big one.
    I arranged the books in order of importance so that if I had to run I could easily drop the least precious. Life of the Phantom Queen I dropped down the front of my dress. It hit the line of my belt and stopped. There was no hiding it—it stuck out on my stomach and looked as awkward as it felt—but I wouldn't lose it, and that was all that mattered.
    Books in hand, there was nothing left to do but flee. But how to do that? The front door wasn't an option. I pulled up my second sight, scanning for the portal on the wall Owen had brought me through. Nothing. Balls.
    There was a faint groan from the vicinity of my feet. Owen was coming to faster than I'd expected; dragons were tough—or I'd grossly underestimated how