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Timing of Trick (The Fate Caller #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Zoe Parker

Book Information:

Trick & Treat

Daya the nutbag decided that the best way to build a relationship with his daughter was to kidnap her.
His daughter, that’s me, has decided that I don’t feel like having a relationship with him.
He says he wants to make up time when really he wants to control my power.
The lady doth protest, a lot.
The guys try to stage a rescue and fail, so I decide that I’m sick of sitting and waiting for rescue.
I’m going to rescue myself.
One of the first things I’m going to do when I get home… I’m going to kiss the smirk off of Trick’s face.
If I survive my escape.

**This book contains reverse harem themes and is not standalone***

Books in Series:

The Fate Caller Series by Zoe Parker

Books by Author:

Zoe Parker Books

Chapter 1

The Elf Has Gone Mental

The man who helped make me is even more psycho than my mom was, and that’s saying a lot. I stare down the long, wooden dining table at him, my teeth grit in anger and a little fear, wondering if I can stab him with the steak knife before anyone catches me. He raises his eyebrows, smirking a little as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Not that I’m trying to hide it much. I relax my death grip on the knife and attempt a false smile. It probably looks more like a grimace, but it’s all I have left to give.

When I woke up, almost two weeks ago, after he took me from outside of the courthouse, it was in a bedroom made for a child. Pink, so much pink that it gave me vertigo, coats every surface in the room. Then you have the dolls, creepy and also pink, that line one whole side of the room in rows of porcelain horror. There’s even a small kitchen playset against the wall opposite the small, pink frilled bed.

Of course, the first thing I did was try to escape, I tore the pink canopy off the bed and tried to make a rope with it to climb out the window. That didn’t work out well for me, and I have the bruises to prove it. I was halfway down the outside of the house when Daya cut the homemade rope and let me fall the rest of the way. He then had his acolytes hold me down while he beat me with a switch like the ill-behaved child he called me. That didn’t stop me from doing it again the first chance I got. That time they used a bigger switch and chained me to the bed for an entire day.

It took me a full week of trying to fight my way out and various, increasingly more painful punishments for me to settle down for the wait and see approach. After a few days of that, I grew impatient and tried to use my abilities on his staff. It didn’t work either. There’s a dampener here that pushed back against me and gave me a blinding headache and no results. I have yet to test every room I’ve been to, but I know it doesn’t work in the bedroom, dining room, or their twisted version of a family room.

He has people chained all along the walls in the family room. When I tried to free them, he had the only one I managed to get free, executed.

Treating me like a child doesn’t stop with the room either. The clothes they’re providing for me to wear are adult-sized but not adult-themed. Childish and a myriad of pastels they’re not something you’d put an adult in. The one I’m wearing now is a pukey mint green, covering me from my chin to the tips of my toes in stiff, heavy material. The collar gave me a rash around my neck. I fidget to keep from itching it again; the last time he threatened to tie me to the chair and have one of his servants feed me.

Daya—I refuse to call him dad—instructed me on how to use my napkin, silverware, and not to rest my elbows on the table. He’s been droning on for over an hour about mostly himself and his lengthy list of accomplishments as a high priest for Donn. I’m only half listening because he might give me something I need to get out of this mess.

“It’s rude to ignore your dinner companion, daughter,” he chides, his soft voice echoing in the painfully quiet room.

My head snaps up, and I meet his mismatched eyes. Shit.

He wipes his mouth with his napkin and sits it off to the side. Smiling that creepy smile that makes my skin crawl, he says, “Did you know that I tried to breed a child for over a hundred years? I picked a woman from every race that I thought would be compatible and attempted to plant my seed in their detestable wombs. There were so many failures that, until your mother, I had almost given up hope.” He pauses as the staff clears away his plate and gives him a fresh drink of some type, which is tasted by one of the servants for poison first. They do the same with mine even though I only eat when I have to.

“You had other siblings, of course, not that any of them survived the wretched wombs of their mothers. All of them died at birth, until you.” Oh, yay for me. “I’d have raised you myself if not for that despicable woman. She hid you away from me in her precious forest.” Mada? That’s the only one I can think of that could be considered living in a forest.