Elfin by Quinn Loftis
Elfin
Book 1
Quinn Loftis
© 2012 Quinn Loftis Books LLC
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Acknowledgments
There are so many people that I want to say thank you to, so many people who made this book possible. Thank you to the Wolf Pack, you girls are amazing! Thank you to the Quinnesentials, the street team who so diligently promotes my books. Thank you to all my ARC readers who take their time to read and then post reviews. Thank you to my editors, you all are amazing and I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you to my family for all your support and encouragement. Most importantly, to those who take their time and money to read my books. I’m humbled and honored by you all! From the bottom of my heart , thank you.
Dedication
For my best friend and husband, thank you for your support, your input, your critiques, you encouragement, and most of all thank you for being all the inspiration I need to write a love story. You are my soul mate, the only one for me and I’m honored to be your wife. Thank you to my precious son for smiling at me when I truly need a smile and just being the awesome kid he is.
Table of Contents
Imortant Elvish terms
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Sneak Peak Tiffany King
Important Elvish Terms
A'maelamin (My beloved) Amin mela lle (I love you) Im harma le (I treasure you) Amin naa lle nai (I am yours to command) Arwenamin (My lady) Sereg'wethrin (Assassin) Lle amin (you are mine) Melethron (lover, masculine) Sh'mai (Beloved of my soul) Almare (Bliss) Plant being used to make Rapture.
Lotse (flower) lótë Tirith (Guardians loyal to Triktapic-Tyndril and Tao)
The Elfin Series
Book 1
Elfin
“Humans are not to see the Elfin in their true form. They are not to know of our realm. If a human does see an Elfin in their true form their life is forfeit.” ~ Book 1 Law of the Elfin
Prologue
“You summoned me?” Trik knelt before Lorsan and his mate Ilyrana, the leaders of the dark elves. He kept his eyes on the floor as he waited for his King to address him and tried not to show his irritation at having to wait.
Lorsan stood, tall like most males of his race. He wore traditional black fitted pants and a black fitted shirt made of a supple material that moved with the body so as to prevent any hindrance of movement during battle. His warriors donned black vests while he wore a vest of gray. His boots came up over his pants and laced up his calves. These were also crafted in such a way as to provide maximum efficiency in battle. They hugged the foot and calves so well that one wearing them couldn’t even tell that he sported any footwear at all. His hair was long, hanging down past the middle of his back and dark as midnight. His eyes were catlike in shape and glowed a deep shade of gold. He was handsome according to the females of his race though a human might find him quite disarming.
He folded his arms across his chest as he continued to stare at his most faithful warrior.
“Tamsin is planning something.” Lorsan’s mouth tightened as he said the name of the leader of the light elves. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at Trik. “I need to know what it is.”
“Forgive my boldness but why do you believe he is planning something?” Trik asked.
“Oh for goodness sake, stand up,” Lorsan told him in exasperation. “Since when do you submit to anyone with such grace? It doesn’t suit you and frankly it bores me.”
Trik stood slowly with the grace of a cat unfolding itself from a long nap. He looked at Lorsan with a smirk and brushed his long, dark hair from his face; hair so dark that it held a purple hue and shimmered in the firelight from the torches that lined the walls of the throne room.
“Far be it from me to be the one to bore you. How shall I entertain you my Liege?” Trik asked giving a dramatic bow. “Shall I dance? Perhaps sing you a song, one of the old ones? Enchant you with one of the many stories of how the dark elves have corrupted the innocent and bathed in the blood of our enemies? Or maybe you would like me to wow you with magic and mind blowing feats of daring?” Trik rose from his bow and winked at the smiling Queen, obviously enjoying his flippantness.
“What I would like, Triktapic, is for you to do what you do best. Be invisible. Follow Tamsin’s warriors to the human realm and find out why they have been spending so much time there.”
“Do you want me to bring one of the pasty ones back?” Trik asked. Lorsan snorted at the nickname his most trusted spy had given the light elves, poking fun at their immutable pale skin.
“No, I don’t want to draw their attention just yet,” said Lorsan. “Just hide and watch. Leave immediately.” Lorsan dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Trik let out a chuckle at his King’s seemingly careless brush-off. He walked slowly toward the door waiting for the inevitable.
“Oh and Trik,” Lorsan’s voice carried through the room echoing off the high ceiling.
“Liege?” Trik asked not bothering to turn back around.
“Try not to get yourself killed. I would hate to have to train another spy and assassin.”
“Since you put it that way, I’ll have to stay alive. We both know that there is none such as I,” Trik chuckled.
Lorsan let out an exasperated breath. He knew Trik was right; there was no other elf that even came close to matching Trik’s talents, if that’s what you wanted to call them. When it came to covert operations and undetected killing, no elves, light or dark, could compare.
“And stay away from the human females,” he heard Lorsan’s raised voice as he shut the door behind him. Just before it closed, Trik responded. “No promises there.”
Chapter 1
“Halloween is here and once again I’m struggling to pick a costume. Once again I am trying desperately to ward off Elora’s attempts to turn me into some sort of gothic princess or dark fairy. If you happen to see me strutting down the street in a halter top with wings, glitter in my hair, and three inch heels, please shoot me on sight.” ~ Diary of Cassie Tate
“I’m not wearing that Elora. You might as well take that pattern and stuff it back into the bag of long lost costumes that should never see the light of day.” Cassie climbed into her best friends beat up Dodge Neon. The door creaked ominously as she opened it. Chipping red paint sloughed off, revealing a layer of blue beneath it. Who knew what color lay beneath the blue. Elora’s car had been painted several times by her older brother, Oakley, when he had started working at the auto body shop his senior year and the original color was since long forgotten. Few little sisters would have voluntarily allowed their brothers to practice painting on their vehicle, but Elora didn’t have much of a
“I’m telling you now, as your friend, if you try and wear a costume like you did last year, I will personally put you out of your own misery, not to mention my own,” Elora said in her signature dry voice. She rolled down the window, letting the crisp fall air blow through the car that had, despite the increasingly cool temperature, still grown hot from sitting in the asphalt parking lot that boasted absolutely no shade for the student parking.
“Seriously?” Cassie’s jaw dropped open. “That costume was so creative.”
Elora rolled her eyes as she started the car. She shifted into drive and pressed the pedal to the metal, coaxing the sputtering little engine to deliver its maximum effort, which resulted in a loud squeal from the tires as the girls pulled out of the school lot. Cassie latched onto the door unconcerned about the loud noise; well acquainted with her friend’s maniacal driving skills.
“You were an ant.” Elora’s face scrunched up in distaste.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t just an ant. I was an ant on a picnic table .”
“Exactly,” Elora responded deadpan. “You were wearing a table. I’m sorry Cass but I draw the line at wearing furniture. We’re seniors this year; we have a responsibility to blow the minds of all the underclassmen peons.”
Cassie laughed. “What about Charlie’s Angels? They are some kick butt females.”
Elora raised a single pierced eyebrow at her best friend.
“Do you really see this,” she motioned to her face and then her body, “as Charlie’s Angels material?”
Cassie looked over at her friend. There was no doubt that Elora was beautiful, but not in a typical way. She was heavy into the Goth scene. Her hair was dyed jet black, with the exception of the bright red chunks she put in it. She wore it in long layers with bangs sweeping across her face intentionally creating a mysterious air. She had a stud resting in her left brow; four piercings in her left ear, five in her right, a stud in her right nostril, and, of course, a stud in her tongue. She wore dark eye shadow that gave her purple eyes, made possible by colored contacts, an enigmatic sparkle. She was naturally fair skinned, so she didn’t bother with any powder on her face and her skin was flawless anyways. She wore black, black , and more black and she rocked it. Black miniskirts with black fishnet tights drew attention to her insanely long legs on her five foot, seven inch frame, which was completed by black combat boots and an off the shoulder shirt revealing a black halter top. Around her neck dangled various crystals, all of which were, according to her mother, effective to promote healing, positive energy, or some other such nonsense. Various rings, ranging from skeletons to talons, adorned nearly every finger.
Cassie’s mouth quirked up. “I see your point.”
“Just leave the costumes to me. I’m sure my Lisa can help me come up with something dark and sexy.” Elora turned onto Cassie’s street and her tires screeched to a halt in her driveway.
Lisa was Elora’s mom and that is what Elora had always called her. Elora wasn’t into titles that she claimed society put on people to set them apart, when, as she put it “we are all human beings who picked their noses as children in front of people without shame and then in secret as adults.”
“Who says I want to look dark and sexy?” Cassie asked.
“I do,” Elora answered giving Cassie a what kind of question was that glare.
“Just remember that we are not standing on a corner trick or treating for the wrong kind of tricks and treats, okay?”
Elora rolled her eyes but then added, “That was actually a pretty good analogy.”
“So glad I meet your approval.”
“I’ll call you later tonight. No doubt you are going to need my help on our English project.” Elora began to back out of the driveway. Cassie motioned for her to roll down her window.
“I have to go up to my dad’s work remember?” Cassie yelled to her.
“Why do you have to go again?”
“His assistant is out for the week and he asked me to do some of the filing and whatever other meaningless tasks she does,” Cassie said in exasperation.
“Okay. We’ll work on the paper tomorrow. It’s not due until Friday anyway,” Elora waved as she continued out of the driveway and peeled and puttered off down the street.
Cassie looked at her watch and realized that she was already late. She walked over to her less than impressive, not to mention ancient, Honda Civic, digging her keys from her backpack. Once she had them, she tossed her backpack into the back seat, slid into the driver’s seat, and started it up. She backed out of the driveway in a much more reasonable fashion than Elora just did, and headed towards her dad’s work in downtown Oklahoma City.
~
“Dad, I’m here.” Cassie hollered as she walked into the reception area of Woodland Oil Company, Inc. From what little she knew of her dad’s work , he handled the company’s financial stuff and had the words “President of,” in front of his name. She walked past the reception desk and down a long hallway passing office after office on either side. Her father’s office was the last one at the end of the hall.
She knocked and opened the door when she heard his voice. William Tate, III sat at his paper -covered desk, tie loosened around his neck , his salt and pepper hair rumpled from continually running his hands through it.
“Come on in, Cass,” her father said and she noticed how tired he sounded. He always sounded tired, Cassie thought to herself. He worked way too much. Though he never complained about it, Cassie could tell the long hours were wearing him down. She made a mental note to bug him later about taking her on a vacation. It was for his own good.
“Hey,” she said with her brightest smile, hoping to bring a little energy into the stale room. She wanted to wrap him in a hug when he returned her smile and he immediately looked at least ten years younger.
“So what do I need to do?”
William stood and his six foot, three inch form seemed to make the large office shrink a bit. With a flat stomach, large muscular arms and powerful legs, William Tate was an avid athlete. He tried his hardest to make time to do push-ups and sit-ups in his office throughout the day. Aside from his graying hair, he looked much younger than his forty-six years. He laid the papers that were in his hands down as he came around his desk and motioned for her to follow him back down the long hallway to the reception area. His assistant, an older, frumpy woman named Martha, kept her desk in meticulous order. He pulled a box of papers out from under the organized desk.
“These need to be filed alphabetically into these file cabinets.” Then he pulled another box from the other side of the large file cabinets.
“These need to be shredded,” he motioned to the box. “The shredder is actually in the break room which is out those doors,” he pointed to the main office doo rs. “Down the hall, on the left.”
“That seems like an odd place for a shredder,” Cassie said absently.
Her dad let out a huff of laughter. “You don’t have to tell me. But do you want to be the one who tells Martha where she should put her shredder?” He turned to go back to his office then paused. “You’ll be okay out here by yourself?”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m eighteen. Technically I no longer require supervision.”
He let out a groan. “Don’t remind me,” he said, leaving her to it.
An hour and three paper cuts later, Cassie finally finished the filing. She stood and stretched her legs and then her arms. She looked down at the box full of papers to be shredded and quickly decided that she was not going to be able to carry it down the long hall. She looked around the office for some sort of cart.
“Bingo,” she smiled as she pulled a rolling cart from a closet to the right of Martha’s desk. She hefted the heavy box onto the cart and then steered it from the office and down the long hall. Cassie had to admit that it was kind of creepy being alone in a large b
She found the door that her dad had been talking about and poked her head inside to make sure that it was indeed empty. She saw that no one occupied the room and proceeded to pull the cart inside and over to the shredder sitting at the back of the room. She began the monotonous task of pushing paper into the machine and listening to the grinding sound it produced as it cut the paper into tiny pieces that would be impossible to read. Just as she grabbed the last of the papers, she heard raised voices that sounded as if they were coming from just beyond the wall to her right.
Cassie froze. Without thinking, she tried to quiet her breathing, which had inexplicably begun to speed up. Cassie stood and walked over to the wall and pressed her ear to it. The voices were intoxicating, smooth and intriguing, like melted milk chocolate. She found herself wanting to get closer, wanting to find out who could have such a voice. Before she realized it , she found herself walking back out of the break room and to the very next door in the hall. The wall of this office was made of glass instead of painted sheet rock. The blinds that hung in front of the glass were closed, blocking her view to the inside of the room. She walked a few steps down the hall, passing in front of the glass. When she reached the end of the glass, she saw that there was a small, roughly four inch opening where the blinds weren’t quite covering the window. She peered in through the opening and her breath caught in her throat.
A long table filled the room and was surrounded by chairs, half of which were filled with men, though they were far from normal looking. These men were beautiful, regal, and masculine all at the same time. Each had long hair, board straight and shiny, with unorthodox coloring. The hair of one of the men was stark white, though he looked as if he were in his early twenties. Another sported hair of pale blue, while another’s was light purple. This was bizarre in and of itself, but that was far from their most unusual feature. Cassie’s mouth dropped open when she noticed that their ears were pointed at the tips. Not sort of pointed, like some people have, which are often described as ‘elfin’ in appearance. No, these ears were well and truly pointed, strikingly different from anything she had ever seen before. Cassie blinked her eyes and rubbed them fiercely, trying to make sure that she wasn’t just seeing things that weren’t really there. She looked away from their ears and instead studied their faces. Again she noted that they were inhumanly good looking. Everything about their faces was perfect. High cheek bones, straight, perfectly proportioned noses, pale, smooth, flawless skin that seemed to shimmer under the florescent lights. Then she noticed that their eyes, like their pointy ears, seemed unbelievable. They sparkled, containing unnatural colors that appeared to match the color of their hair.