Queen of Blades and Roses – Chapter I

Hey book lover! I’m working on a  new book, Queen of Blades and Roses, which is expected to hit the Zon at the end of August. Read the first chapter , and feel free to comment or e-mail and tell me what you think. This is a passion project for me, on which I’m working in parallel along with the next book of the Legends of the Fae series! So here we go.

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When did my destiny go wrong?

When the Spades fae’s curse befell us all, fae and humans alike? Or when I, Vyper the princess in rags, became the key to a masked beast’s vengeance against them?

Once known as Prince Aries Amberson of the Court of Scorpio, the Scorpio Beast wants the throne of Celestia. He believes the city on top of Doomsday Mountain is rightfully his to rule, and he needs me to get it. Who would have thought that I of all people would have a legal claim to it? I have no choice but to do what Aries demands, otherwise he will leave behind piles of corpses that will include those of my brothers.

But as I’m forced to join him into the great halls of Celestia as his fake fiancée, I go discovering there is more to this monster than I knew. A tragic hero hides behind his iron mask, one with a cruel past, and a future that might doom us all. My brothers say I’m the only woman that can touch his heart, that I’m the key to his undoing. It’s my sacred duty. Fail, and Aries Amberson will go down in flames, taking us all with him. Succeed, and it will mean my own destruction because there is no taking off the beast’s iron mask without facing a deadly truth.

A Curse of Blades

Through the pub window, the Cursed Woods looked almost romantic. They could fool anyone sitting with a pint in their hand at the wooden table beside it here at the Fyre Dragon Inn and Pub. Soaked in the scents of hearth and ale and leather, this was a place where stories had been born for many, many years, and most of those stories were about the Cursed Woods.

But the truth lurking in the hilly darkness spreading out between Azoth Hollow and Doomsday Mountain was far from the romantic adventure the pub’s storytellers made it out to be. They never told things the way my brothers and I gave it to them—raw and gut-wrenching. It frustrated my brothers. As for me, I didn’t take it quite as personally. After decades crushed under the effects of the Spades fae’s curse, people needed some fantasy to keep them sane, and I felt for them. Not so my brothers.

“Do they even see our bleeding hands when they take the gold coins from them?” Thornan grunted, cocking a thick black eyebrow at the gossiping crowd from behind his pint. Scars adorned his rough fist, and his rugged looks placed him well beyond his twenty-two years. Part of that was his scruffy three-day-beard and aggressive features, but most of it was what we had been doing for a living for years. It had turned all three of us into brutes, even if it was less obvious in me, probably because I was female.

Of the three of us, I seemed easiest to approach, accommodating even. I had inherited the magic of seduction from my fae ma’, even though I wasn’t good at using it, because hell, she hadn’t been around to teach me. But my magic was good enough to use on humans, and on some of the monsters out there, and I’d crafted my own brand of violence from it. Where blades couldn’t help me, my magic did. My brothers and I needed to function like a well-oiled machine when entering the Cursed Woods, our lives depended on it, and I always did my part.

Once every season, we put it all on the line venturing into that forested hell, hunting for treasure. We spent the rest of our time training for that. It took over our lives completely, but gold, silver and gems were the only things that got the people of Azoth Hallow through the winter. It helped us buy stuff from the other human settlements that didn’t have to suffer under the Spades’ wrathful curse, the curse that had turned Azoth Hollow into a haunted village. It intrigued outsiders and travelers, it fascinated them, but no one in their right mind would choose to spend a full moon night here. As for leaving Azoth Hollow to settle somewhere else—others tried before, and failed miserably. Being born in this place was like a scarlet letter, causing people to recoil, as if we could carry the curse into the wider world.

And maybe we could. We didn’t know for sure, but the curse might have affected us all in some way.

The sure thing was that our village wasn’t safe beyond nightfall on the three full moon nights every month. If the sunset caught you outside, you were on a life and death race to get yourself to safety. Ghosts would creep onto the streets, hungering for human flesh. Consuming it made them feel alive again, even if only for a few hours. They were spirits of dead Scorpio fae, cursed by the Spades to dwell between life and death forever, unable to resume complete physical form or to cross into the spiritual world for good. It was the Spades’ way of keeping the Scorpios dependent, unable to reclaim their lost power.

One thing the spirits couldn’t do though—they couldn’t enter cottages uninvited. But whatever they caught outside was theirs for the taking, and they never spared a life. Their hunger for it was beyond themselves, almost vampiric.

It was these stories that drew travelers to Azoth Hollow like moths to a flame. It was why the three men at the bar top were here, talking to Big Reo, the inn keeper. Checking them out from the corner of my eye, I’d have said they were monks, gathering stories they could take back and write down as real accounts.

“Those idiots, look at them,” Kovra groaned next to me. “Scented clothes, heads swimming with bedtime fairy tales, happy to believe all that bullshit.” He banged his pint on the table, the ale sloshing over the edges. “There are no fucking fairies in the Cursed Woods,” he called out, drawing the three strangers’ attention. “No fucking mermaids in its murky lakes. Only slimy stuff coiling around your feet, skeleton hands reaching out from the mud to pull you in, snakes slithering around every fucking pile of treasure. It’s hard earned silver that pays for this ale.”

Kovra tossed his ale down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked away. I could only hope the three men wouldn’t dare to come over, even after Big Reo leaned in and whispered to them who we were. The strangers’ eyes widened as he spoke, their curiosity and hunger for more obvious in their neat monkish faces. One of them, probably the leader, licked his lips greedily, but still hesitated, which was understandable.

Kovra’s androgynous voice was one of many misleading things about my twin brother, but his words and tone always had a sobering effect. He was angry, always on the edge, and very efficient with a blade which, for some reason, shone through. We were both blonde, blue-eyed, fair skinned and half-fae, which made us particularly beautiful to the human eye, but that was pretty much where the similarities between us stopped.

Kovra was everything his name suggested. Fierce and swift. He’d inherited the fae looks of our Ma’, but his mordacity he got from Da’, the best blacksmith in Azoth Hollow, and once the best blacksmith in Celestia, too. Back in the Scorpios’ day, humans could still work in the Golden City, if they had proven themselves worthy. The fae considered humans lowly creatures, but they still used their services, if they were outstanding.

Yet my twin and I would have been seen as abominations in Celestia. Hybrids between fae and humans were extremely rare, and even those rare ones were born of human mothers and fae fathers, from affairs that rarely survived the night of conception. But Kovra and I were the product of a forbidden love between a fae princess and a human blacksmith, a story that ended in tragedy.

In the aftermath of that tragedy, Da’ got cast out of Celestia, and sent back to Azoth Hollow with my brother and me when we were still babies. Grief after Ma’ almost killed him, but the Providence took mercy, and a kind girl from the village fell eternally in love with him. I guess there’s no resisting a handsome blacksmith with a broken heart. Thornan was the result of that union, two years later. They’re fine together, Da’ and Thornan’s mother, but I think Da’ never stopped being nostalgic about Celestia, and Ma’.

Sometimes, on clear days, you could see the city with the naked eye on top of Doomsday. But such days had been rare over the last two decades, ever since the Spades usurped the Scorpios. The curse spread a permanent veil of clouds over Azoth Hollow, unleashing hell into the woods covering the hills between it and the mountain.

These were the kinds of stories that travelers came here for, and that wasn’t any different for the three monks heading over to our table right now.

“May we join you?” the leader inquired, sinking his hands into the wide brown sleeves of his monkish garment. The other two drew close to him as they flanked him, looking fearful but greedy for information. A holy trinity of well-fed, well-slept boys. I wondered how much they were willing to risk for the knowledge they thirsted for. My brothers had clearly already decided they weren’t worth the effort of even opening their mouths. Thornan took another sip of his ale, while Kovra shot them a killer glare. Chills ran through the flankers, but number one kept his ground.

He pulled a chair, and sat down. The old wood creaked.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kovra demanded under his breath, his long blonde hair framing his face like glinting platinum. It made a fierce contrast with his pale blue eyes, sharp nose and thin lips. I was his female version, only that my hair was up in a tight pony tail on top of my head, my eyes sparkled more, and my lips were fuller, all an effect of the succubus-like magic I’d inherited from Ma’.

“We don’t remember inviting you to take a seat,” Thornan bit out.

“Big Rae there said you were The Scavengers,”  the leader said. “You’re famous.”

“Very famous,” the monk to his right chimed in. I named him number two.

“You have no idea,” number three said from the leader’s left.

“Fuck off,” Thornan growled.

“We have money,” number one put in, and pulled a pouch from his sleeve. It landed on the table with the telltale clink of precious metal. Coins. “We understand that people like you don’t let other people partake in their experiences just like that. They’re valuable, the things you’ve lived. The things you’ve seen, and learned. We understand that, and we’re willing to pay for the privilege of learning.”

“So you want to learn,” Kovra said through his teeth. “How about you join us tomorrow, and learn by doing?”

Thornan burst into a raspy laugh that made number one’s throat bob, but he got a grip quickly. He reached to the pouch, unfastened the leather string around it, and spilled its contents onto the table. Thornan’s dark eyes fell to the silver coins. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his face unreadable to the strangers, but Kovra and I knew exactly what he was thinking. We had every intention to back him up, so my twin took on an even colder, forbidding and opaque demeanor, while I upped the magic flowing in my veins, creating some atmosphere. This could prove lucrative.

“What’s this supposed to mean?”

“Like we said—”

“A few chipped silver coins? We get that within the first few minutes in the woods.” That was a lie, but Thornan was the kind of guy you took seriously.

The monks looked at each other and, after a few moments of hesitation, number two pulled a second pouch from his sleeve. When the contents spilled on the table, Thornan’s eyes glinted.

“Diamonds and sapphires,” number one stated proudly, pushing out his smooth boyish chin. “Originals from Celestia.”

“Celestia,” Kovra said, leaning back against his chair. “And how does a man like you possess something from the Golden City?”

“My brothers in faith and I come from the oldest monastery in northern Kaledonien.”

“Hmm,” Thornan purred. “Where the pilgrims go.”

“Yes. Where the pilgrims go. They bring much value to our holy place, new knowledge, exotic goods.” He looked down at the gems. “Rare items.”

“Then why did you need to come here, to this cursed place? Why search for the stories when the stories come to you?”

“Because only here we can learn the truth about the most famous monster in the world. The Scorpio Beast.” He leaned in with greedy eyes, but lowered his voice to a whisper, as if the name alone could strike him dead. “He’s said to dwell in the Cursed Woods. Aries Amberson.”

A heavy silence spread out at our table, dampening the nearby chatter. There wasn’t much noise to begin with, not with everyone’s ears funneled for the conversation at this table, but even the little cacophony there was died down now. It was the effect of that name each and every single time someone spoke it out.

“Aries Amberson,” the leader monk pressed on. “The last surviving prince of the Court of Scorpio, the—”

“We know who the bastard is, we don’t need a fucking profile,” Thornan spat out.

The monk licked his lips, his eyes so big now I could see the red under his lower eyelid. My eyes flicked down when he put his hands on the table. It was my job in the team to take in the details and evaluate danger, and I never got out of that mode.

“Heroes from many parts of the world came to Northern Kaledonien, and all of them had heard about the Scorpio Beast. But we never met anyone who’d actually laid eyes on him. He became a myth with too many versions. We’re here for the truth.”

“Why would you even want that kind of truth,” Kovra grunted. “I would un-know it anytime if I could.”

“And I can understand that,” the monk said. “You and your siblings have been through hell.”

“You understand nothing,” Kovra burst out, shooting forward and causing the monk to snap back into his heat. My twin held out a long, bony finger in the monk’s face. “Don’t you fucking patronize us. We’re sick of you useless scribes coming around, going all paternal on us. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to feel death’s cold breath wrapping around you from the moment you enter that cursed darkness. That place out there—” He motioned with his head towards the window and the woods. “That place is hell. You want to know what it’s like? With pleasure. Tag along tomorrow, and we’ll show you.” His eyes glinted pale blue from under white-blonde eyebrows. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid we’re going to take your treasure and use your ass as fodder for the very beast you’re so eager to see.”

Number one stared with a blank face for seconds before he spoke again.

“We’re not looking for the beast. We’re looking for the truth in order to write about the beast, and keep the accounts forever protected in our library, and you of all people should see why. Don’t you think the world should know about what’s really happening out there?”

“We think the world should fucking help,” Thornan interjected. “But it’s easier to just come snooping around, and then get out of town before darkness falls.”

“I think they should know about the Scorpio Beast,” I chimed in, drawing the three monks’ attention.

“Oh?” one of them breathed, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “She speaks.”

I gave him a smile, a small one, to make him comfortable but not quite.

“We know one or two things about him, it’s true,” I began, keeping still as a statue, yet my voice was low and inviting, fluid. It mesmerized the monks, but that might have had to do with my half fae looks more than with my magic. The fae traveled the world of men only rarely, and they tended to keep their looks obscured under hoods on most of those occasions.  Kovra and I might well be the only fae these three men had ever seen.

“Aries is the son of the late Scorpio King, Zavros Amberson, and his wife, Lumeia,” I said. “I’m sure you heard of them. King Gariel of the Court of Spades killed both King Zavros and Queen Lumeia when he took over Celestia. For that, he used black magic, because he wouldn’t have won against Zavros any other way. The Scorpio King was the world’s best fighter, and some said his wife was one hell of a strategist. She was the commander, he was her General. Together, they were an unbeatable force, so Gariel turned to dark powers in order to defeat them. He sold his soul to the devil, if you like. I’m sure you, of all people, understand the concept. Aries and his siblings survived the terrible curse that fell over their Court, but at a great cost.” My voice lowered, its frequencies darkening. “They had to integrate the curse, to let it run through their veins, become one with it, and live with it like with a disease. They were all small children when this happened, which was bad enough, I imagine, but Aries had the worst fate of all. Have you heard anything about this curse, honored clergymen?”

The leader blinked as if recovering from a mesmerized trance. “Indeed, yes. The curse, ahm—” He scratched the back of his head. “Like I said, the Scorpio Beast has become a myth in its own right. There are many speculations regarding that.”

“Let us hear some,” I encouraged, keeping the smile on.

“Well, there are those who say he can kill with seduction. He can give pleasure, but that’s all an illusion. In truth, terrible things happen to people’s bodies when they think they’re being loved by him. Where they feel a caress or the stroke of a tongue, it’s often the slithering of a poisonous snake. But that’s only one of the many theories.”

“Why am I not surprised you chose one related to carnal sin? But the beast is about more than that.” I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table. They made a blunt clanging sound against the wood from the elven silver protective plates I was wearing over my black mail. Elven armor, scavenged from the woods last season. I rather liked how it made me look.  The metal in my outfit had the Scorpio heraldry carved into it, the intricate undulations of a scorpion. Everything that belonged to the Court of Scorpio, including their treasure, had been thrown out into the Cursed Woods in the aftermath of the bloodbath, imbued with the same curse, which rendered the treasure untouchable by full fae blood. Luckily, my twin and I were only half fae, and we could make good use of what we found in the woods.

“Let us start with the beginning, so that this story makes perfect sense to you,” I told the eagerly listening  monks. The leader’s looks had turned slightly more lecherous, but I didn’t mind just yet. I liked it when masks started to peel off of people. “Tell me, clergymen, do you know how fae names are chosen?”

The two flankers shook their heads no, while the leader kept staring.

“From their birth, fae emit a certain kind of energy. Like the name suggests, Aries Amberson was first and foremost a warrior prince, because he was born with martial magic in his veins. A positive kind of magic, in the beginning, it seemed—he was a protector—which, to his parents and his court, was a blessing. He would one day become head of the Scorpio Army, and it seemed he’d been born for it. To him though, it was a curse, because the dark magic King Gariel cast over the Scorpios twisted what was already inside the children. It turned Aries’ older brother, Taurus, into a particularly nasty shifter that goes mad at the scent of blood. You can hear his chilling howling on full moon nights, and you can be sure no living creature out there is safe from him.

“It turned his sister Lybra into a dark executioner, a creature that will deliver justice in cruel ways on full moon nights. It’s not unlikely to find a wayward clergyman with obscure sins hanging from a cross with his insides spilling out of him.” I leaned in closer, driving tension into the monks like a rod up their arses. Only number one retained some measure of control over his facial expressions, while the others stared like they weren’t sure they wanted to listen to this anymore. “Can you imagine what it turned Aries into?”

Snorting laughter broke through my magic, giving the poor bastards some respite from the trance I’d pulled them into. It was Thornan, unable to hold back his amusement.

“Look at them, staring like you’ve turned into the fearsome creature yourself. Relax,” he slapped number two’s back, nearly throwing the man off his chair. “It’s just my beautiful lady sister. For now.”

“Let them answer my question,” I said through my teeth, not trying very hard to hide my displeasure. I made a mental note to ruin my little brother’s fun the first chance I got, too.

“A devil,” the leader said quietly. There was fear in his voice, but also reverence. My cheek twitched.

“People shouldn’t revere monsters, clergyman, for whatever reason. It’s not like it’s real admiration anyway. It’s just a suck-up to power. Yearning for a monster’s approval is just a lecherous way of begging for safety from their cruelty—by implying the possibility you’d adhere to their values if it came to that. But trust me, that wouldn’t bring you the monster’s approval. Monsters despise suck-ups. They chew them up, and then spit them out like leftovers that lost their taste.” I paused to take in the effect on their faces. It gave me a kind of sick pleasure.

“Have you ever seen him?” he managed.

Kovra scoffed by my side.

“You don’t meet the Scorpio Beast and live to tell the tale. He’s killed more monsters with his bare hands than we ever slayed with our weapons. Facing creatures like Aries Amberson isn’t how you survive those woods.” He pointed to the darkening window behind him. “And it’s sure as hell not how you scavenger treasure to help this village survive.”

“Find a place by the hearth to spend the night, clergymen,” I concluded, leaning back in my chair, and lessening the grip of my magic over them. “It’s going to be the most scary one your lives. If you’ve never heard the whispers of death before, you will tonight. You’ll hear the breath of ghosts, and the howling of Taurus. This, gentlemen, is the most dangerous night of the month—the last of three full moon nights. Not a great time to arrive in Azoth Hollow, but it seems that’s how your fate would have it. Tonight, death descends over the village, taking the most treacherous of forms. That’s why we gather in large groups in places like this.” And why we, The Scavengers, went on our hunt the next day, but I left that out. The spirits and monsters gave their all on these nights, they feasted and gave their murderous lust free rein, and they slept deeper the next day, which made it easier for us to move through the Cursed Woods. “I hope you are happy, gentlemen, and appreciate the great opportunity you’re being offered. I’m sure you didn’t even dare hope such a thing would happen when you arrived here this afternoon. You’re going to experience the thrill of your lives, but beware. Some ghosts will call on you, using their power to lure you out of your safety—the very reason we stay together. Whatever happens, don’t even think about leaving the inn, because you will certainly die.”

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What makes people attracted to you? A Personality Test by Ana Calin

NEW Personality Test by Ana Calin

Please take a deep breath, relax, and look at the covers below. Take a few seconds to listen to your innermost self. Try not to take more than five seconds, to make sure you stay honest with yourself before your thoughts start playing tricks on you. It’s important to keep your mind as quiet as possible to feel the truth. Ready? Which character/cover/title do you feel more attracted to? See the results below (DO NOT peek before you’ve made your choice!) Please share your result, you know I always love to hear from you.

RESULTS:

You have a very rich inner world. Your strength in a relationship lies in the imaginative and fantasy-rich sides you can put on it. Living with you can be like living in a world of wonders. With you, your partner can experience things they’ve never dreamt of before. You need stimulation in a relationship, that’s often what feeds your imagination. You have to feel your partner is worth it. Still, you probably made peace with the fact that your ideal partner will remain just that—an ideal; but you certainly know how to become your partner’s fantasy, and that is one of your core strengths.

Your ideal partner is mysterious, dangerous, profound, intellectual. You’re profound yourself, and your needs are sophisticated. You need intensity in your relationships, and you offer it in return. You have a vast and interesting mind, and enjoy long and deep discussions. You’re attracted to a partner that can mesmerize you, and you can be quite mesmerizing, too. You can create addiction in a partner, to you, your essence, your relationship, but beware! You’re susceptible to the same.

There’s something about the bad guy you just find irresistible. You might attract the predatory kind of partners. But there’s another side to that coin. You can make your tormenter dependent on you. You can sort of embody the perfect emotional victim. You can be quite manipulative in your responses, giving this kind of bad boy exactly what he needs. You have an instinctive understanding of what this kind of people need, emotionally, and you know how to exploit that. But beware! There is a great danger to all this. These predators are usually apt at taking without truly giving anything.

You’re seriously into protector vibes. There’s a vulnerability and sensitivity about you that’s quite precious. You’re dedicated and nurturing when you fall in love, you’re all about The Other. Very protective of your (future) children. You’re generous, giving, honest in your feelings. You’re loyal, and you need stability. You like the idea of family, of starting one with the partner of your dreams, of putting down roots. Your strength in a partnership is loyalty, reliability, you’re a good family person. You like a splash of danger in your protector-type lover, and that points that you might have an anxious nature.

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Tell me which quote speaks to you, and I’ll tell you who you are

NEW Personality test by Ana Calin.

Okay, ladies and gents, you know the drill. No peeking at the interpretation before you’ve read the quotes, and let your gut decide which one speaks to you most. Try not to think about the answer, but feel it instead. So here we go:

Which of the following sentences holds true for you

  1. “To improve is to change. To be perfect is to change often.” Winston Churchill
  2. “Only the wisest and stupidest of men never changes.” Confucius
  3. “The problem with a life spent reading is you know too much.” Josh Lanyon
  4. “Never miss a good chance to shut up.” Will Rogers

Interpretation:

  1. You are a dynamic person, future-oriented. Your level of ambition is very high. You’re interested in new developments, and you’re probably an early adopter in matters of technology, too. You’re curious and inquisitive by nature, and you might be talented in fields such as journalism and detective work, even science. Competent, determined, energetic. Undeterred. Hard on yourself but lenient with others, except maybe with your partner after many years of being together.  
  2. People who know you might refer to you as a wise old soul. You’re probably an intellectual even if you didn’t study long. Despite your knowledge of many things (you have a diverse wealth of knowledge), you could be rigidly set in your ways. You believe in the deep wisdom of tradition, in the complexities and value of experience. You may be resistant to new things, and consider many modern developments frivolous. You do have some kind of mystical access to ancestral wisdom through your appreciation of nature and of the entire chain of planetary evolution.
  3. You often feel like part of an “elite”, and you may sometimes discard other people’s opinions because you feel they don’t have the intellectual basis to emit them. Put simply, you can get a little judgy. But that happens mostly because you’ve often been praised for your intellectual prowess, when you emitted an opinion you’ve often been right, and you’ve been blessed with a taste for intellectual pleasures. You tend to live more in the mind than in the heart, but that doesn’t affect your well-developed capacity for compassion. You’re interested in people and what makes them tick, and you like developing theories, which are often well-articulated and viable.
  4. You have a very rare quality—you’re a good observer. In fact, a good career choice for you could be that of a spy. You pick up on the most inconspicuous details, and you’re usually spot on about their interpretation, too. You’re a silent, but powerful opponent. You’re probably mysterious and compelling, and people are drawn to you. A strategist. Tough, methodical. Very patient. In a thriller, you would probably be the silent character who turns out was the villain all along. But once someone wins your loyalty, you’re there for life. You’re one of the most reliable people out there, and you have qualities that are truly very hard to find.

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What does it feel like to be loved by you? What kind of lover do you attract? A personality test by Ana Calin.

NEW personality test by Ana Calin. Be warned – this one is for dark, complex souls.  It’s one of those articles in which we’re exploring our demons (you know, because that’s what I do all day writing sexy shifters, vampires and fae princes). So here we go.

Please read the following sentences and decide without much thought, within a few seconds, which one holds truest for you. Try to feel the answer rather than think it, and please, do NOT even peek at the interpretations before you’ve made your decision.

  1. I’ve been spending my life waiting for a drop of tenderness.
  2. True love isn’t a sweet delight, it’s a decadent pleasure.
  3. I take my love stories with a bed of roses and a dash of poison.
  4. There’s no crueler hell than unrequited love.

Interpretations:

  1. Yours is a bottomless soul with a tragic story. You were probably subjected to emotional abuse in your early life. You might be prone to develop the Stockholm Syndrome. Your love stories are profound, but they always have an element of pain to them. It’s that element of pain that attracts you, and that makes you attractive. You might be inclined to create victim-abuser scenarios. Try reading villain romances, bully romances, you might like them. You love a bully if you feel he is a hurt soul in need of rescue.
  2. Your love stories are probably toxic and glamorous, which is why you might be highly addictive to your partners. You love hard, but you hate even harder. You tend to take matters into your hands, and you probably go after the men or women you like, too. You’re mentally very robust, but you can still go stalkerish on your love interests. Your lovers are either so affected by you they can never forget you, or they run away from an intensity they can’t handle. You simply burn too hot for them.
  3. You might be slightly (or seriously) masochistic, and here I don’t necessarily mean your sensual preferences, even though those could be as interesting and elegantly twisted as your personality. You’re interested in sophisticated and demanding lovers that challenge you on multiple levels, helping you grow. You’re most probably that kind of lover, too. You know how to make your SO feel special, but you can crush them, too. You don’t mind being the one crushed either, because to you, that is sometimes the price of a love story that’s worth living.
  4. You are a natural giver. Your love is like a deep, mysterious ocean that yet hides more sorrow than golden treasure. You have a tendency to fall in love with emotionally unavailable people, or may have an attraction towards forbidden love scenarios. You may have a subconscious pattern of putting yourself in painful situations. Subconsciously, you may fetishize being emotionally mistreated. It’s very possible that you have deep-seated worthiness issues. You may gravitate towards people who seem indifferent to you in an effort to feed your self-deprecating self-image. But make no mistake—being loved by you is like being cradled by ocean waves; it’s a one of a kind experience.

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Also, if you’re in the mood for a romance as dark and creamy as chocolate with sexy demons, vampires, fae and shifters, check out this page. It’s got over thirty titles that might be just the kind of entertainment you need tonight. I always love to hear from you, so don’t hesitate to leave me a comment, share what you think.

Owned by the Cruel Prince CHAPTER I

The time has come! Owned by the Cruel Prince is going to hit the Zon by the end of this month! It’s been a few good months since the title was supposed to come out, which is why I decided to share the first chapter here with you. You’ve waited enough, and I thank you so much for your patience! Okay, so here we go. Let me know what you think, I’m always glad to hear from you, so feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts.

Blurb:

Sandros

It’s true, what they say about me. I am half fae and half demon, which to the fae kind means that I have a predilection to evil. If they didn’t need me as desperately as they do now, they’d try to f*cking lynch me.

And they’d f*cking fail.

I’m a centuries-old warlord, I’m not easy to kill. I’ve been bred for war, and now that the Antichrist is ready to take over the world, I could destroy the fae, or I could save them. So I’m faced with a choice—join the devil, or fight against him.

A choice that would be easy to make if it weren’t for her—Edith Snowstorm.

My fated mate, and the woman who betrayed me.

I came to the human realm for her, determined to get her back.

For months I’d been fantasizing of subduing her again, of owning her, of doing to her the things she hates to love.

But I found her with another man.

Don’t f*cking ask how I resisted the urge of slitting him open right in front of her. But that would have been too little of a punishment for the two of them.

Edith opened Pandora’s box, and now she’s gonna pay for it.  I’ll enslave her, watch her fall apart under me, I’ll make her tremble with guilty pleasures, and hate herself for it. I’ll have her know the taste of sin, I’ll have her writhe for it, because I know this one thing—she might not love me, but she sure as hell wants me. She always has, and she’s not even trying to deny it.

So I might as well chain her to me for the time I have left, since chances are, the fires of hell are gonna consume my soul anyway. But there is also a small hope, that she might save it. And, along with my soul, the world.

CHAPTER I

Edith

Here we are again, Sandros Nightfrost and I. Right back where we started, with my puppy brown eyes raised to his beastly golden irises as we face each other across the table. He’s as heartbreakingly unattainable as he was years ago, when I was first placed “under his wing”. Or, better yet, in his power. After all, he was the “master” and I his servant, even if it was on a battlefield where we acted as one, telepathically bonded.

Things have changed since then. A lot.

Now I’m the lady of a French castle, the trophy wife of Lord Durion Mithriel for all the town’s high society is concerned. To them, I’m an ethereal blonde with waves of white-blonde hair cascading down her back, always designer dressed and a bit drunk. I play the part best with a glass of champagne in my hand at social functions. I never actually drink it, but no one ever notices. As long as it suits the image they’ve made of me, my true identity is safe.

The opulence of my dresses and jewelry is also necessary. The physical appearance of the fae is unusual for humans, and believe it or not, the best way to keep suspicion at bay is by flaunting it. People often refer to this effect as ‘surreal beauty,’ even though I personally don’t consider us more beautiful than humans. We’re just more like what they desire for themselves. So Durion and I freely display the luxury we live in, our expensive clothing, the cars, the chateau. This way, people just assume we ‘bought’ our looks too—good crèmes, the best pills, the right surgeons, some even consider bioengineering. I heard them whispering at the last function we attended.

We also have to display a relationship that doesn’t actually exist. Though we play the married couple, in the months Durion and I have been exiled here in the human realm I’ve come to loathe him. He treats me like his possession, and there’s always an undertone of menace in his communication toward me. But I have no choice but to put up with him, otherwise I know he’s got ways to hurt me.

Sandros doesn’t know all this, of course. He doesn’t know that the closeness between Durion and I is a ruse. He didn’t give me the opportunity to explain, neither the first time we saw each other at the mayor’s birthday party two days ago, nor during the two minutes we had to ourselves in this room before Durion stepped in, stiff and square-shouldered like a royal rooster with his full head of golden curls and his chest pumped forward. He’s come to take this charade of the two of us being a married couple of noblemen dangerously seriously and now, as we sit here across from Sandros, more so than ever.  The possibility of his sliding his hand under the table on my thigh hovers like a dark cloud over my head. It’s a possibility that Sandros feels, too.

Despite Sandros’ hostility towards me, our bond is still there. It’s an inescapable connection, one that he obviously hates being tangled in. He doesn’t love me, while I always have loved him, ever since the very beginning, even as he treated me like shit.

Because I’m an idiot like that.

This time Sandros doesn’t face us as the army general that everyone used to fear, the beast in studded leather armor that every woman at the winter court secretly wanted to fuck but would never dream of admitting it. No, this time he’s sitting across from us in a fitted suit that wraps his amazing body in a mouthwatering way, classy but also wild with his sharply chiseled face and long black hair. No wonder the plates clatter on the server girls’ trays as they scurry around with starters and drinks.

“So, you’re telling me that Nessima sent you here to speak to her benefactor on her behalf,” Durion says, his face filled with suspicion.  “I’m sorry, but I find that highly improbable.”

“And why is that?” Sandros rumbles, his voice like low, distant thunder.

“You stayed back at her estate as her prisoner. Two months later you emerge her right hand? I’m sorry, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“I found a way into her heart, and from thee, into her trust zone.”

I fidget in my seat. Bastard must know he just plunged a knife into my heart.

“We’re together now,” he twists the knife. “I’m sure that, if you think about it, it’ll make sense that she’d let me handle some of her more serious affairs.”

“As I am sure you understand my reservations. This isn’t some Shanghai CEO that she sent you to meet, it’s not Bill Gates or the President. It’s the fucking Antichrist.” Durion’s last word makes me flinch, which isn’t lost on Sandros. His golden eyes move between Durion and me as Durion places a hand over mine.

“It’s taken Nessima centuries to gain access to him,” Durion continues. “It seems unlikely to me that she should share that power, no matter how in love she is. Especially after what happened with her first husband.”

“Officially, Eldan Blackfall is still her husband.”

“So you and her can’t really be together?” Durion says. “And yet she’s given you more power than she ever even took for herself?”

“She actually asked me nicely to take it,” Sandros rumbles, his golden eyes glinting like honey and hellfire. “As a warrior, I have a reputation. She wanted that reputed skill and influence on her side.”

That sounds so true it cuts yet deeper.

My pulse rises to the point that I can’t breathe. It’s hard to put up with the tension between the two men, and even harder to withstand the waves of hostility that hit me from Sandros. I’m painfully focused on his presence, and I can’t shake it. Everything seems to fade around him, even this chateau with its paneled walls and luxury fittings. There’s no comfort in the expensively holstered chairs or the intricately carved ornaments of the great fireplace, not even in the intimate light of the candelabra, or the statues and expensive art surrounding us.

The flames from the fireplace cast a golden light on the sharp angles of Sandros’ face, licking his caramel-bronze skin. Maybe I’ve lived among humans for too long, and gotten so used to their appearances, that this fae warlord now seems as surreal to me as he does to them.  Even looking at him hurts.

“Suppose we believe you, Edith and I,” Durion tells him. “Say we accept that Nessima sent you here to act on her behalf. Did she give you his identity then? Because we’ve been here for months, and still haven’t got the slightest clue. It could be anyone from the town mayor to the baker.”

“Yes. I do know who it is.”

My breath stops, my eyes enlarging in shock.

“You do?” I whisper.

“Unfortunately I cannot share that information with you.” His gaze brushes unwillingly over to me. “Either one of you.”

A server enters, awkward on her feet, the china clattering on her tray. It must be Sandros’ handsomeness that’s gotten her all flustered, because it couldn’t be the topic of our conversation. We’re speaking winter fae language, which resembles human English, but she doesn’t understand that one very well either, and even if, she still couldn’t know what we’re talking about.

“I’m here because Nessima needs more of his support, and she thinks he would grant it to me easier than to her. There are things that I can offer him, and she can’t. Things are also becoming urgent because, ever since her husband Eldan came out of the coma, the King has been planning an invasion of the North, meant on crushing her forces. She will rely on her benefactor more than ever.”

“And may I ask how Eldan has been cleansed of the evil that kept him unconscious?” Durion pushes. “We all know that Nessima implanted it into him, and only she could get it out of his system.”

Sandros raises his square chin.

“I persuaded Nessima to retract it from him.”

Durion throws his head back, letting out a fake laugh. “Really now? And all that only through your talents as a lover?”

“I offered her my complete allegiance in return. My unwavering loyalty.”

“And she believed you?” I chime in, pressing the lid down on my boiling feelings.

Sandros stares at me out of those golden eyes, and it feels like a damned train crash.

“That’s where my talents as a lover came into play.”

And, with that, the knife tears deeper into my flesh.

It’s obvious that Sandros isn’t here only a mission, he’s also back to torture me. It seemed surreal that he should have turned on the King of Winter, his own half brother that he served for centuries upon centuries until this woman Nessima came along and screwed up our lives, but apparently it’s true. So true that the blood drains from my head.

How could he? How could he betray the king, and more yet, how could he betray me? We’re bonded mates, and that’s something almost impossible to break. But this bond must feel different for Sandros than it does for me, and if I’m completely honest with myself, deep down, I always knew. When he first took me in that storeroom under the stairs at Nessima’s estate, I knew I was doomed. I’ll always want this warlord, while he’ll always find reasons to despise me. As intense as our sex was, as deep our connection, it was about love to me, and about possession and power to him.

“Now here’s how things are going to go down,” Sandros says, broadening his shoulders. I’m a sucker for his powerful build, and he knows it. “I’m going to contact him, but that will have to be in a crowd, because a crowd is what best confers anonymity. So let’s start by making a list of upcoming events and, if there aren’t any, we’ll set up one ourselves.”

“Why would we help you?” I bite out, defiance balling behind my eyes. “You’re betraying your brother the King of Winter, and everyone you professed to care about by doing this. All this means we’re not on the same side anymore—doesn’t it, Durion?”

Durion blinks and babbles a little before he replies, “Why yes, yes, of course, yes.”

It must come as a shock to him that I’m putting us in the same boat, him and me, but he likes it, I can tell. It softens him toward me and the entire situation, which is good, because even though I loathe him, I need all the allies I can get right this moment, since I feel like I’m going to hell.

The hint of this new alliance isn’t lost on Sandros either, who assesses us for a few moments out of those golden eyes before a wicked grin quirks up his chiseled, forbidden-fruit of a mouth. He leans forward, slowly, placing his elbows on the table, seeming even bigger, his shadow growing over the curtains behind him in the firelight. Durion stiffens in his seat, his shoulders and jaw clenching as he tries to hang on to his resistant attitude.  

“The two of you make one hell of a pair,” Sandros slurs.

I don’t respond. Let’s see just how far Sandros’ rotten opinion of me can go.

“You will help me because you have no choice,” he eventually says, pushing his chair back. When he rises, he does it like a gliding python.

I watch him as he prowls over to the fireplace. The sleek suit doesn’t do anything to mask his feral nature, on the contrary, it works as an enhancement. He picks a red rose from a gilded holder on the mantelpiece, pushing his free hand into his pocket. The suit tightens on his arm, sending a flash of memory involving those arms around me, subduing me.

I shake my head to cast out the memory that threatens to spread through me like a disease.

“These look like they are more than just decoration.” His voice is as controlled as ever, but I can feel the veiled irritation behind it. I hold back from probing his mind telepathically, because he would feel me there, and I’m not sure I want to know the full extent of his resentment. “Are red roses a regular gift in this place?”

“I’ve spared no effort to make Edith’s exile in the human realm as pleasant as possible.”

“Oh, but being in the human realm has hardly ever been torture for her,” Sandros rumbles, his tone lashing. “Let me remind you her illegally crossing over into the human realm and screwing human boys was the reason she got thrown in the Ice King’s dungeon in the first place.”

“Come on, Sandros, that was ages ago,” I bust out. “I’ve paid for my mistakes, I was locked down for years, and then I served you in the war against the Lord of Fire. Sure, the stigma never went away, it might never go, but I won’t have you judging me, not anymore.”

Durion places a long-fingered hand on my shoulder, and this time I don’t shake it off. Two servers enter with the last of the tableware and make to take positions by the door, standing in expectation to wait on us, but Sandros has other plans.

“Thank you very much for everything,” he tells them in a deep voice that makes the blood surge into the women’s cheeks. They’re so affected by him their thoughts are senseless clamor in my ears. “You can leave now. Take the night off. Actually, take tomorrow too. Tell the rest of the staff, it’s three free days for everybody.”

The two women look at each other, and then at Durion and me. I can feel his thoughts, he’s furious that Sandros should take upon himself to give our staff orders, but he knows that clearing the chateau of personnel is the right thing to do. The safe thing to do. We nod at the women, and watch them reluctantly leave. Their thoughts still echo inside my skull, and I can make out some sense in them—they’d love to stay, find out more about the mysterious visitor. One of them particularly likes having his eyes on her, it stimulates her sexual fantasy in which he’s forcing her down to her knees, fist clenched in her hair. She wonders if he’s married, but doesn’t seem to care even if that’s the case.

“I quit judging you a long time ago, Edith,” Sandros addresses me as soon as the servers have cleared the room. “I think by now we know each other well enough to know what to expect.”

“Believe it or not, I would very much prefer to return to the Winter Realm,” I say. “To the Queen, who I’m honored to call my best friend, and to the King, who happens to be your half-brother.” I stick out my chin. “I guess I don’t know you as well as you assume. I would have never expected you to switch sides. To cross to Nessima Blackfall’s side, no less, who tried to kill your best friend Eldan in punishment for having found the love of his life in a man instead of her. You’ve turned your back on all the centuries that you and the King have fought side by side? And for what? Pussy?” I scoff.

It’s satisfying to hold the words on my tongue like that. He sure didn’t expect that kind of reaction from me, and on the one hand it felt hood. But on the other it feels like I’ve just drunk poison because I’m putting things into a perspective that’s hard as Tartarus to bear. But since he’s determined to think the worst of me, I might as well return in kind.

Yes, years ago I found a way to slip into the human realm and have fun at frat parties. I had my first lover there, but I wasn’t doing it with ‘boys’. It was only one boy, and Sandros knows that. When we connected, current running through us, creating the mates’ bond, he saw the guy with the number eight on the back of his jacket.

“I’m not here to explain my motives to you.” His tone is flat as if my words had bounced against a wall. “I’m here to let you know how things are going to go down. So—”

“We don’t need to make a list of events,” I cut him off. “There’s enough high society in this town that there’s always something going on. There was the mayor’s birthday two days ago, and there’s the engagement of Count Guerin’s son on Saturday. He’s celebrating at the same restaurant as the mayor—the medieval tower on the hill, the best place in all the region.”

“Not going to have every person in town there, though,” Durion argues. “It’s only going to be the high society, so the person you expect to meet there—”

“The high society is all we need,” Sandros declares.

“So then we know the Antichrist is a member,” Durion says under his breath.

“Not surprised.” I pick up the bottle of champagne and pour myself a drink, refusing Durion’s attempt of helping with one forbidding look that he doesn’t challenge. He hasn’t seen this side of me before, and that takes him a little off balance. Quite frankly, I don’t know myself like this either. “Who would imagine the devil’s very son wandering the world in a state of poverty or even merely as someone mediocrely well-off?”

“The Antichrist came here to enjoy the good life, that’s for sure,” Sandros says. I feel his eyes on me as I keep pouring champagne into my glass. I do it slowly, watching the liquid glisten and the foam swell, tilting the glass to prolog the process.

“Who’s on the guest list?” Sandros goes on.

I leave the replying to Durion, downing my champagne and letting my eyes wander over Sandros’ frame.

Will I ever be free from his spell, or am I doomed to die under it, like all the other disposable women that came before me in his life? When Sandros Nightfrost chooses to unleash his masculine talents on a woman, it’s not long until she becomes his emotional slave, just like I’ve become. No doubt in the months we’ve been apart he’s made an adoring idiot out of Nessima. By Tartarus, I wish that the champagne could give me the slightest high, I’m in desperate need of it. But nothing but a particular kind of fae nectar is going to do that trick.

 “Listen, Sandros,” I interrupt. “Any chance you brought along some nectar?”

He cocks an eyebrow inquisitively.

“It was the last of my concerns, but I’m sure I can arrange something for you, if you work with me now. Let’s get back to our business at hand, and talk contraband later.”

So the bastard’s going to make me work for it.

“All right, so the engagement party,” Durion resumes, probably deciding it’s better not to antagonize the warlord any further. Everything about him screams we better not try to stand in his way, or things are going to get ugly.

But I’ll be damned. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that Sandros is here to betray his brother the King of Frost after so many centuries in which they’d been so close one could have sworn they were Siamese. I can’t believe he’s aiding Nessima and the Antichrist in taking over the Winter Realm.

Durion pushes his chair back, the wooden legs scraping the floor, and walks around the table to Sandros, who watches him with hawkish eyes.

“There are a few people of note in this town, and they like to be around each other, you know, they feel safer that way. The rich don’t despise the poor as much as they fear they would feast on the crumbs from their tables.”

“I didn’t come here for philosophy,” Sandros cuts him off, but Durion doesn’t seem bothered by the humuliation. I scoff under my breath.  Now that it’s become clear where the real power lies, he’s sucking up to it again. I’ve tried hard not to despise him, but look at him now.

“The mayor isn’t the most important person in this place,” he continues, picking up an oyster and slurping on it, while Sandros leans with his shoulder against the fireplace, the flames dancing in his golden eyes.

“Guerin the Count de Auvergne is the oldest and most respected citizen here. A number of mayors showered him with distinctions over the years. From what I gather he played a huge part against Hitler, but he’s too old now to play a part in anything remotely challenging. He’s extremely well connected though, and he’s trying hard to pass his connections on to his son, Antoine. Except skill and life experience isn’t passed on as easily as money, and Antoine’s turning out a good-for-nothing that’s squandering his father’s inheritance before the old man’s even in the ground isn’t making it any easier. He’s a drunk, an addict, and a womanizer.

“Guerin has started to see that Antoine has anything but a bright future ahead of him once the old man’s dead, so he’s trying to save the situation through an arranged marriage. The engagement party between Antoine de Auvergne and Simone Carrera is thus based on anything but love. She’s not a noblewoman, but she’s rich, an heiress. Used to be a great beauty, and she’s still attractive, by human standards, even though she’s got her best years behind her. So she could still have her choice of men, easily, so old Guerin has to make the union interesting for her, and especially, profitable. They must have struck a good deal. She’s very savvy in the business area, I’ve heard.”

Has the champagne started to have an effect, or is Sandros glancing at me every other sentence?

“So these three will be the main people at the engagement party on Saturday, but there will also be the mayor, Jean Dubois. He’s a cliché-ish middle aged politician pervert that won’t miss a chance to hover around Giancarlo Botini, a fashion designer who’s not entirely cliché.” He glances at me with hidden meaning. “He’s extravagant, dark sunglasses at midnight and such, but he’s as into women as it gets. Most of all into Edith.”

Sandros’ eyes fly over to me, the complete mirror of Durion’s, except there’s also some sort of reproach in there, as if I’m to blame for the attention.

“Come on Durion, what he wants is for me to model for him,” I counter, even though I hate it that I want to set Sandros’ opinion straight. “To him, I’m the stereotypical trophy wife with an alcohol problem and good legs. He just thinks I’d look good on a catwalk.”

“Which you most certainly would,” Durion says. “But the truth is, Sandros, it’s not only the pretty trophy wife that Botini sees. As a fae, I have no doubt Edith is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Unless, of course, he is the Antichrist, and he’s seen this kind of supernatural beauty before.”

Sandros walks around him as if he’s heard everything he needed to hear. “So all these people are going to be at the engagement party.”

“Them and more.” Durion spins on his heel to face Sandros’ back as the latter takes distance. “The mayor’s connections, high-flying politicians and corporatists, also the more important part of his extended family will be there. The mayor also has two sons from a surrogate mother, but I suppose they’re irrelevant.”

“Now why would you suppose that?”

“What do you mean why? They’re toddlers. Twins.”

Pretty weird looking twins, if you ask me, but I could still kiss and pinch those doughy cheeks. They’re chubby, and sweet, and yet I can understand people’s reluctance to go anywhere near them. They have disturbingly wiry copper hair and uncomfortably piercing blue eyes that would make the night unsettling for the most settled of minds. Human minds. Not used to facing demons and dragon shifters in battle, oblivious to the incredible worlds existing around their own.

“It’s decided, then,” Sandros states matter-of-factly, placing the rose slowly on the table right across from me. “We’ll be attending that engagement party on Saturday, and you will be introducing me as your distant cousin.”

Our eyes meet, and his eyes nail me to the chair. Durion can’t catch the look between us, since Sandros is with his back at him, and I manage to suppress any reaction that threatens to move a muscle on my face.

“And by what name should I introduce you?” Durion says. “Because I can’t possibly use your real one. These are generations’ old noblemen and politicians and corporate moguls, they’ll know—”

“They’ll know I’m someone they’ve never heard of, and yet someone with enough power to infiltrate their ranks. Someone that looks different enough to raise their curiosity. When these things awaken curiosity, respect tends to follow. It will open all the doors that need to be opened.”

Silence falls over the room, only the fire’s rustling filling the air, the flames bathing the place in a timeless light. I like it because it reminds me of my old world, of my true home in the Winter Realm. The Snowstorm estate, the abandoned fortress of my family. It’s now probably infested with Nessima’s dark power, since her evil has gaped to swallow the entire territory beyond the Northern forest.

“I’ll be staying in the east wing. Tell the staff not to venture there. I understand it’s still undergoing renovation anyway,” Sandros declares, turning to leave.

“The renovations have only just started,” Durion corrects him. “It’s actually in a pretty bad state right now, it’s hardly a proper lodging for—”

“I’ve had worse. I spent half of my life in war camps. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Can’t say the betrayal wasn’t expected,” Durion says when we’re alone again, his eyes still fixed on the archway through which Sandros has just exited. He pours himself a glass of champagne, and downs it in one go. Alcohol doesn’t have an effect on either of us, but the prickling, fine taste of French booze can be soothing. “You should have known, too. He’s the son of the former winter king and a powerful demoness from Hell. Evil has always coursed through his veins, that’s why our people have always been instinctively wary of him.”

“You’re right.”

For a moment, Durion looks like he’s about to slap himself. “Wait, you actually agree with me for once? What’s the catch?”

“No catch. It’s the way it is. Pour me some, too.” I wave my hand to the bottle, slouching back in my seat. I must look like a heart-broken mess. My dress is off the shoulder, which I guess adds to my overall desolate appearance as I let a man I loathe fill my glass instead of the one I want, who left the room without giving me another glance.  I keep staring at the rose he placed in front of me, which has already started to wilt, as blackening under his dark power.

“I don’t think you’ve ever agreed with me on anything before,” Durion says as the champagne gurgles into the glass.

“I’d be an idiot to not agree with you on this one. But agreeing isn’t going to get us anywhere.” I meet Durion’s eyes as I re-run the evening in my head. “The realms are in mortal danger again. The Antichrist is here, in the human world, the centerpiece that holds all the worlds together. And now, the darkest prince of the Winter Realm has joined him. If these two come together, the worlds are going to collapse, and evil is going to swallow us all.”

Durion nods, dread starting to spread in his large brown eyes. “We have to do something.”

“First of all, we have to find out who the Antichrist is.”

***

UPDATE Release Schedule – The next book in your favorite series

The Summer of 2020 has been unconventional to say the least, which has given many of us authors time to write more, and organize and re-organize our schedules in new ways. At a certain point I had more books scheduled for this year than I could actually write, I mean write like I mean it, immersing myself in the books’ worlds properly. So, without further ado, this is the new schedule my awesome editor Tami and I came up with. Acquiring covers we fell in love with at first sight may or may not have had to do with our planning new stories *wink*. Anyways, some of these titles are already backed up with pre-orders, and there’s a link to them wherever that’s the case. We will go adding links as we add more pre-orders. So here we go 🙂

(Fae Romance, Vampires and Shifters by Ana Calin)

Prince Michael the Bad (Book 7 of the Dracula’s Bloodline series) – 24th of August

Wicked King (Book 3 of the Fae of Fire and Ash series) – 24th of September

Vicious Fae (Book 2 of the Hiddeen World series) – 22nd of October

In Sin with the Wolf (Book 4 of the Magnificent Beasts series) – 24th of November

The Dragon Lord’s Fated Mate (Book 1 of the Dragon Chronicles series) – 22nd of December

the NEXT BOOK IN THE MAJOR ARCANA ACADEMY SERIES WILL BE RELEASED LATER IN 2021

Dragon’s Prisoner (Book 2 of the Deagon Chronicles series)24th of Feburary 2021

The Devil’s Son (Book 8 of the Dracula’s Bloodline series) 05th of March 2021

The schedule for March – December 2021 follows.

But until then there’s so much more that’s available for you right now. Check out all the available books and series here.