Filthy Rich Fae, page 1
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Content Warning
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Don’t miss the rest of the Filthy Rich Fae series… Filthy Rich Fae
Filthy Rich Vampire
Second Rite
Three Queens
For Eternity
Discover more romance from Entangled…
Don’t miss the exciting new books Entangled has to offer. Follow us!
Landmarks
Cover
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2025 by Geneva Lee. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing believes stories have the power to inspire, connect, and create lasting change. That’s why we protect the rights of our authors and the integrity of their work. Copyright exists not to limit creativity, but to make it possible—to ensure writers can keep telling bold, original stories in their own voices. Thank you for choosing a legitimate copy of this book. By not copying, scanning, or distributing it without permission, you help authors continue to write and reach readers. This book may not be used to train artificial intelligence systems, including large language models or other machine learning tools, whether existing or still to come. These stories were written for human connection, not machine consumption.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave; STE 181
Shrewsbury, PA 17361
rights@entangledpublishing.com
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Mary Lindsey and Stacy Abrams
Cover design by Geneva Lee
Cover images by Антон Фрунзе/Adobestock, RinaM/Adobestock,
Chansom Pantip/Adobestock, Anna/Adobestock
Interior design by Britt Marczak
Ebook ISBN 978-1-64937-669-5
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-64937-693-0
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition May 2025
Fallen Court is a dark and sexy urban fantasy about obsession, captivation, and sacrifice. As such, the story contains elements that might not be suitable for all readers, including death, violence, blood, gore, injury, suicide, gun violence, sexual activity, substance and alcohol use, medical treatment and emergencies, and physical assault on the page. Loss of family, child abuse in a foster home setting, rape, and genocide are discussed in backstory. Readers who may be sensitive to these elements, please take note, and remember: the only thing worse than making a bargain with the fae is breaking one…
To Becca, who taught me how to love myself.
Chapter One
Lach
Death waited on our every street corner.
It had followed me most of my life, allowing itself to be borrowed as needed. It saw the blood on my hands no matter how often I washed them. There were eight million souls in New York City, but death watched every step I took, biding its time until its turn to collect.
Any day now.
The city had changed since the last time I stepped foot in it. The sandstone and masonry giants of old were dwarfed now by towering glass-and-steel monoliths. Lurid billboards flashed advertisements, their light shimmering on the rain-slicked sidewalks. A damp earthiness from today’s afternoon shower nearly masked the scent of rotting garbage and exhaust fumes. Under it all was that humming energy that never slept—but even this felt different than it had before the war.
Then, with Earth’s magic cursed, I had been one of the most powerful creatures to stalk these streets. Now, magic simmered, hanging in the air like the ever-present sounds of traffic and chaos, and the city was once again a melting pot of creatures. Vampires, werewolves, witches—most with their own agendas and all vying for power—brushing shoulders with clueless mortals, the line between worlds blurring like ink on wet paper.
I kept to back alleys and side streets, using a system of portals hidden in plain view of the city’s human population. I turned my collar up to block the misty rain but didn’t slow my pace. I’d been in the city for two days, and the chill October evening only made me miss the Louisiana heat more. The thought elicited a pang of longing that had nothing to do with New Orleans.
It had been two days since Cate disappeared. Two days of waiting for an explanation from her foster brother, Channing, about his involvement with her kidnapping. Two days of being stuck in my sister Fiona’s tiny apartment while her girlfriend, Romy, consulted grimoires and called in favors to try to remove my newest tattoo—the mark on my neck that branded me a dead man walking. Two days of waiting for news out of the Infernal Court. Two days of silence from my own court as they dealt with the fallout of me killing MacAlister. Two fucking days, and I was losing my gods-damned mind.
A car horn blasted as I passed the western edge of Washington Square Park. My pace quickened as I reached Third and spotted a forlorn alley that extended only a few feet past the main thruway. I hesitated before ducking in, but no one noticed. Just as they didn’t notice as I vanished past where it—and the modern world—ended and continued into long-forgotten Amity, the magical enclave tucked into a pocket of Greenwich Village.
It hadn’t always been the case. When New York renamed the neighborhood streets to align with the grid and erased others from existence, Amity had hidden itself away from the city’s human inhabitants and continued with its way of life as best it could while magic slumbered.
But even with newly awakened magic seeping into its cracks and crevices, the city’s creatures were still ones of habit, so it was no surprise to find a green light still glowing above a battered black door nearly a century later. I rapped once, the knock deliberate but discreet, and a peephole slid open.
A pair of glittering black eyes stared out at me, but their owner didn’t speak.
“I’m here to see Durant.” My resolve hardened around the hole in my heart. There was no point in introductions. That would only get me killed. I just needed to get past the gatekeeper.
“Durant isn’t taking visitors,” she said in a rough whisper and slid the peephole shut again.
So, that’s how it was going to be.
I cracked my knuckles once before nipping—snapping my fingers and rematerializing—into the vestibule, a choice I had no doubt I would pay for shortly. The owner of the glittering eyes, a woman in a tight leather dress that showcased her ample curves, stared for a moment. Her scarlet hair, cut in sharp angles, drew attention to full lips that opened with a hiss as I dropped my glamour. She lunged at me, fangs lengthening and eyes shifting to pure black.
I nipped to the other side of the tight space. “I wasn’t asking.”
“We don’t allow fae pieces of—”
“I would choose my next words carefully,” I warned her. Rage pounded in my chest, begging to be released. “I’m having a really bad week.” I flashed the inside of my coat, giving her a glimpse of one holster.
Would it be bad manners to shoot one of Durant’s people in his own place? Undoubtedly. But even with a death mark on my head, I knew no vampire would question fae royalty.
She paused, but a sneer curled her lip. “Is that supposed to scare me? Bullets don’t kill vampires.”
“But they do hurt, and we both know you’d rather I shot you than stake you.” One would kill her, and we both knew it. I dared her to test me. I’d been feeding my fury every day, unwilling to cave in to despair. But now that rage demanded action, preferably with a fair amount of blood.
She considered for a second before tilting her head toward an unmarked door behind the bar. “He’s in the back.”
“Thank you.” I tipped my head at her.
But she was already slinking toward the bar, where she reached for a bottle of something that looked like blood and poured herself a drink.
Squat armchairs upholstered in jewel-toned velvet were clustered around marble tables in dimly lit pockets that hid the faces of the creatures I passed. Most of the patrons in the speakeasy kept their heads down, either not eager to get involved or more interested in their absinthe and opium. Still, a few couldn’t resist the urge to stare. I was a novelty in a place like this. Fae tended to stick to their home courts, where their magic was at its strongest. Only the strongest of us could call upon ours, let alone nip, this far away from home.
But no one tried to stop me as I headed toward another door in the back. The word office, stamped in gold vinyl on its frosted window, was the only clue as to what waited behind it. The room inside was larger than the main floor of the speakeasy. A behemoth oak desk covered in stacks of paper and ledgers sat on one side with two empty leather club chairs before it. There was a bank of security monitors hanging on the wall, and in the center of the room, a motley group was packed around a small table, cigars and cards in hand.
Every creature froze at my entrance. Then, one by one, they threw their cards on the table. All but one.
I met Durant’s rapidly darkening eyes and nodded hello. He glanced at his companions, sighing at the abandoned cards on the table before him, and waved a hand. “Leave us.”
Curious eyes probed me as the creatures gathered their winnings and shuffled out of the back room, glancing back nervously at the money on the table. But I ignored them, unwilling to let my old friend out of my sight. Mostly because I wasn’t sure that Durant still qualified as a friend, or whatever passed for friendship between our kinds. Vampires always had their own agendas—as did we—so even when we were on good terms, neither species trusted the other.
“I can’t believe Veronica let you in here,” he said when they were gone.
“I didn’t give her a choice,” I admitted.
Durant lounged back, and his open shirt collar revealed a coin pendant hanging from a cord. His hair, nearly as pale as his skin, was longer than I’d seen it in a century. He toyed with one of his leather gloves thoughtfully, and then, in a flash, a gun was pointed in my direction. “You are the last sorry piece of shit I expected to drag his ass in here tonight. I ought to kill you for what you did.”
Not friends, then.
I didn’t bother to draw my own weapon. Instead, I slid a smile onto my face. “Your sister is better off without me.” I lifted my hands in obligatory surrender. “Besides that, I’m a changed man.”
The skin on my wrist itched at the words, as if to remind me just how changed I was. The intersecting ribbons of gold—proof of my newest bargain and one that could never be broken—were hidden beneath their own glamour, but I never forgot they were there. The mark of our handfasting—a bond sealed by fate—burned and ached on my skin, and I doubted it would calm until Cate was safely by my side.
Durant stared over the barrel of his 9-millimeter, a slow grin breaking across his face. “My sister? I was talking about you cheating at cards the last time I visited New Orleans.” Just as quickly as it appeared, the gun was re-holstered. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket, then crossed the room with a swift grace that belied his true nature. “I owe you one for my sister. She is better off without you. I might have had to kill you if you had stuck it out.”
Without warning, he slung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a hug. My chest tightened with wary surprise, but I clapped a hand on his back. At least Durant was a lot more forgiving than his sister.
“Just stopping by for a visit?” He pointed to the pair of twin chairs situated before the oak desk. I sank into the red leather seat, but Durant continued to a gold bar cart and poured two glasses of whiskey.
“I need information.” There was no point circling around that fact. Friendly charade aside, we both knew better than to trust each other. That was the trouble with arms dealers—and vampires. They were notoriously slippery.
He turned and passed a crystal glass to me. I took it but didn’t drink.
“Like the fact that you’re marked by the Wild Hunt?” he asked.
I lifted a brow. So he knew. That didn’t surprise me—it was why I’d come to him. He dealt in more than just weapons. “I see good news travels fast.”
“You pissed off a lot of people in your day. Your enemies are happy to drink to your imminent demise. That tattoo on your neck doesn’t help.”
I touched the raised tattoo on the back of my neck and frowned. The Hunt’s brand couldn’t be glamoured, and I kept forgetting it was there. The winged skull and crossbones held an ancient warning that every creature understood. Memento mori: remember that you will die.
But I wasn’t going to die today. Not before I found Cate.
Durant sank into the chair across the desk from me and took a slow sip of his whiskey, glancing at the untouched glass in my hand. “If I wanted you dead, I would have just shot you.”
But we both knew the drink was laced. Not with poison, but with something that leveled the playing field. Yarrow? Probably hedgethorne. Both herbs would limit my ability to call on my magic, ensuring I wouldn’t use it against Durant but also that I couldn’t escape. The drink was a test.
I lifted the glass with a grim smile and took a sip. The whiskey did a decent job hiding the herbs, save for a slight trace of bittersweetness.
I had either proved to Durant that he could relax—or that I was so desperate I was stupid. “You have contacts in London, don’t you?” I pressed on.
He inclined his head, eyes narrowing before he answered, “I do. Trouble with the Infernal Court?”
“I need to pay Bain a surprise visit. His club is open twenty-four hours. It would be useful to know when he visits.” Now my cards were on the table. Durant could just as easily decide to betray me as help me, especially since he knew about the death mark on my head. I couldn’t nip directly into another court without an invitation, but I could walk through the front doors. I just needed to be prepared.
The vampire blew a slow stream of air out, blinking a few times as he processed this request. “London is tricky. I…shall we say…don’t get along with the Rousseaux brother who oversees vampire-fae relationships there.”
“You? But you’re so charming.” I took another drink, the whiskey blazing a trail of fire down my throat. It felt good after settling for Fiona’s wine. But I could feel the grip on my magic both loosen and fumble, like fingers frozen from the cold. Still there but increasingly worthless. Soon I’d be cut off from it entirely.
“I can get information, but it will cost you,” he warned me.
“I’m willing to pay.” I reached slowly into my pocket. Durant tensed as I produced a slip of paper. I held it up like a white flag. “I also need some weapons.”
He swiped it from me, letting out a low whistle as he skimmed the list. “What did Bain do to bring war to his doorstep?”
It wasn’t like him to care about the particulars.
“You aren’t growing a conscience, are you?” The less Durant knew, the better. He might choose to help me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help the next person who came along asking for information, too.
He only snorted, grinning again. “There is no danger of that.”
But I didn’t meet his smile. “Bain knows what he did.” Cate’s face flashed through my mind, and I fought the painful but now familiar urge to nip directly to the gates of the Infernal Court and just start killing my way in. “Blood spilled is blood owed.”
Durant chewed his lower lip for a moment before nodding. Vampires lived by a similar code. “That works both ways.”
“I’m a dead man anyhow.” This time, I smiled.
He studied the list more closely, shaking his head again. “It might take me a few days.” He tapped the paper. “Grenades?”
“I don’t have a few days,” I growled, my control slipping its leash as my heart began to pound. I should have already gone after her. Gods knew what Bain had done in the last few days. “This is a matter of life and death.”
“Isn’t that always the case for you?”
Before I could answer, a red light flashed overhead, and I found myself twisting toward the door. Warning prickled the memento mori on my neck.
“It looks like we have company.” Durant nodded to one of the security monitors above his desk. Six fae, looking like a crew of reject rock stars, approached the bar. The one in the lead signaled Veronica, the vampire from earlier, shouting something. She leaped over the bar, catching a bullet squarely in the chest and crumpling into a heap on the floor. The screen blurred as creatures fled before giving way to static, the feed cutting off.
