Tell me which bad boy you prefer, and I’ll tell you who you are

Time for a NEW personality test based on your favorite books, covers and characters, loves. As always, please don’t peek at the answers before you make your decision. Look at the covers and captions below (it’s important to consider the captions!), and decide which one speaks to you most. Ready? Here we go.

Ice fae king holding you captive.

Deal with the devil. He’ll make your deepest desire come true – for the tiny little price of your soul.

Vampire king with an obsessive need for your blood.

Celebrity vampire stalking you.

YOUR ANSWERS:

  1. (Lord of Winter). You have powerfully developed fantasy, and you crave a partner that is superior to you in that regard. That is often hard to come by. You love beauty, and may have certain dreams about how your ideal lover should look like. You need someone strong that can dominate you. If you have to choose between a love story and a life story, you will most probably choose the first. To you, a relationship without passion is not worth it. To you, there’s no point to stability and safety if your heart isn’t aroused in the only way that matters – through intensity and passion. Of course, that is also the kind of love that you offer, and will take nothing less in return.
  2. (Mister Dark). You don’t shy away from risk in matters of the heart. You’re definitely not afraid to play with fire, and you’ve probably done it often enough that you’ve learnt some stunts around it, too. A relationship with you is an adventure, often a rollercoaster ride. You can sure offer your partner some powerful sensations. It takes a daredevil to be with you, and some serious amount of Dark and Dangerous to get you going; a queen of the night at heart, whoever takes a chance on you is in for pleasant, electric surprises.
  3. (Prince of Blood). You’re not gonna believe this, but at heart, you’re the princess that every prince dreams of saving. You’re pretty traditional in matters of your heart’s desires, not trying to be original or pretending to want something else just for the sake of being “different” or “interesting” or even woke. You’re very clear about what you want and yes, it’s the vampire that craves your blood, because that means he’ll never want another woman besides you. What you crave most in a relationship is complete dedication. You would give up anything for a partner that can persuade you that you’re the apple of his eye. Problem is, you’re not very easy to persuade of that, are you? Your needs in order to feel emotionally safe are extreme, even if your demands might not be. You have no desire for freedom.
  4. (The Porcelain Prince). Let’s be honest here, you have a thing for painful relationships, don’t you? Maybe unrequited loves? But enough about the dark side of your emotional nature. You crave excitement in your love relationships, and periodically you need renewal. Stability? Yeah, it’s nice but not necessarily what you’re after. What you want is emotional stimulation. Having the undeterred attention of the one person you’re crazy about is your favorite way of feeling alive. It’s your own personal kind of high. To you, love should be something you can get drunk on, the one emotion that should replace any drug. You probably think that, if people had the love lives they truly craved, no one would turn to destructive substances. Of course, love can turn toxic and destructive too, but you probably think it’s worth it. Considering that you offer what you expect, you might be right, too.

Liked this? Check out the books in question, and it will be practically be like reading about yourself. Also, feel free to roam the site. THIS page has a wealth of personality tests for you to choose from, and please—let me know what you get. I’m super curious like that.

What is your secret Sin?

NEW Personality Test by Ana Calin

Okay loves, same as all the tests before. Please DO NOT peek at the answers before you’ve taken a good look at the images, and taken your pick regarding which one speaks to you most! Look at the book covers below, and let your gut insitinct decide which one is The One to you. Try not to think about the answer, but feel it instead. So here we go:

Toxic – your secret sin is Lust. But hold on. You’re not only a lustful person, you’re also quite good at igniting lust yourself. If you’re not experienced in deed, you’re rich in fantasy, and you feel things on a  very deep level. When you trust a lover, you can reveal sides of yourself that they can become highly addicted to. There are probably only two types of people out there – those who fear to get too close, and those that are attracted like a moth to flame, unable to resist your innate magnetism. Because there is a magnetism about you that either freaks people out, or pulls them in.

Scarred – your secret sin is Pride. But wait. That also means that you are royally generous, you care about the needs of those you love, and you are fiercely loyal. Yes, you’re particularly sensitive to humiliation, but you’re also dependable, you never tire of finding creative ways to help and lift up those you love, not to mention you have a gift for bringing luck, good fortune and good vibes into your loved ones’ lives. You invest yourself completely in your relationships, and you’re particularly hurt when the other party holds back. You go all in. There are few people in the world more dedicated than you, but probably also few that have been betrayed worse than you.

Ward – your secret sin is Greed. But there are two sides to that coin. You may be demanding, and your expectations soaring, but you’re also highly artistic, you have a way of enchanting people, and those that get tangled in the web of your charms rarely ever find their way back out. You’re interesting, and probably compelling and fascinating. You see shades and hues to things that others can’t, and you’re often disappointed and impatient with other people’s shortsightedness. Mathematical and analytical types are offensive to you through their crudeness. You appreciate good style, not only on the outside, but also in matters of inner life and intellectual abilities.

Forbidden Fae – your secret sin is Escapism. But there’s more to that than meets the eye. You may have a soft spot for forbidden fruit stories, which probably caused you a lot of pain in your love life. You have very rich imagination, and quite the ability to picture things in your head as if you would live them out in reality. Deep down, you could harbor the secret conviction that those fantasies could actually happen. You have a fascinating inner world, and people gravitate towards you because there’s something irresistibly intriguing about you, no matter what you look like. Still, it may rarely be the people you want. You tend to dream about what you can’t have. Be careful that it doesn’t become a psychological issue.  

Liked this? Let me know in the comments, I always love to hear from you.

The Dragon’s Game Excerpt

NEW Dragon Shifter book coming out in ten to fourteen days!

Blurb:

Evil has crept back into the human realm, and only two people can banish it. A fire dragon with a heart of ice, and the only woman who can melt it.

Hazel

Igor Davydov is a dragon shifter with a godly body, a sculpted face, and deadly skills. He’s been protecting me from afar ever since the serpent god Apep was banished from the human realm, but now evil is back, and so is Igor. Up close. In front of my apartment building. Crashing my date that’s gone terribly wrong anyway, and asking to come up.

To him, I was always just a sickly girl that depended on meds to keep herself on her feet. Still, for this mission, he needs me, because despite my weakness, I have one mysterious supernatural strength. Problem is, there’s only one way to defeat the serpent god, one that will bind Igor and me to each other forever, for better or for worse. And right now, things are bad, going on worse. But somewhere along this dark and dangerous road I discover the tragic life story behind Igor’s tough shell, and the more I learn, the harder I fall for him. He wasn’t always a brute that thrived on war and blood. He was once a beautiful boy that now only I can see, and that I’m falling madly in love with. Hopelessly in love, because there’s no way in hell he can ever feel the same about me. Is there?

***

First Meet

“Let me out of here right now,” I demand, but my voice is shaky. He laughs, clearly not impressed, putting a hand on my thigh. I look down with a sense of dread. I’ve gained some weight since I started taking my medication regularly, but Darryl’s hand is still big enough to grab the entire girth of my thigh.
“Give me one kiss then,” he says. “Come on, it’s the least you can do for all the time and money I invested in us, don’t you think?”
A wave of nausea travels up to my throat, and I go light-headed. This can’t be actually happening to me. I press myself against the door as he leans closer, his hand tightening on my thigh, until a terrible force yanks the door open. Reality becomes sharp as hell as I stumble backwards, a strong arm catching me before I hit the ground. The first thing I recognize about the intruder is his scent, one that I would recognize anywhere. Campfires, and dragon skin.
“Okay, this is where you call it a night.” Igor Davydov has the deepest voice I’ve ever heard, and if the situation weren’t making me so sex-adverse right now, I’d probably mention how sexy it is.
Failing to find the balance I need, Igor keeps his concrete hold on me, looking down at my face out of those brutishly blue eyes. He doesn’t say it, but ‘what were you thinking?’ is written all over his face. A wave of shame runs through me, causing me to lower my blushing face, but why, damn it? I haven’t done anything wrong.
“Who is this dude?” Darryl asks after a few moments of what I expect was stunned silence, which makes total fucking sense. It’s not every day that a guy reaches into your car for your date, much less one like Igor Davydov, who looks like the modern Viking role was created based on him. He’s big, blonde, and seemingly sculpted out of a piece of rock. There’s also something unmistakably brutal about his face, with eyes like rough blue diamonds, which would place him just right among the Northern warriors—or, better yet, their gods. His mouth is particularly sensual though, if you ask me.
And maybe not just me. Women forget how to breathe whenever he walks into a room, I’ve witnessed that more than once. Igor is a dragon shifter, and dragon shifters have that effect. Most people don’t know that they exist, they don’t know there are supernaturals out there at all, but still, you can’t look at this man and not realize he’s different. The power contained in those muscles, it emits its own freaking aura, and somehow when he’s dressed in a simple Diesel T-shirt, jeans and army boots, like tonight, the effect is even more compelling. My sister, Vienna, said it was the dichotomy of it, their supernatural looks wrapped in our all too mundane fabrics that make them so impossible to look away from.
Under the impact of first impression, Darryl blinks up at Igor as if something just hit him in the head. In a few moments though, his subconscious mind has already crafted a story that makes sense, and animosity rearranges his features.
“I’m talking to you, Hazel, who is this guy?” he demands like a husband that was just screwed over.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” Igor replies in my place.
“Is she seeing you, too?” Darryl pushes, his voice too high-pitched.  “Were you trying to play me, Hazel!?”
“We’re, we’re not—”
“We live together,” Igor cuts in. He turns to me and raises a very dominant eyebrow when all my brain does is scream ‘Whattt?’ inside my head. “Tell him, Hazel. Tell him how long we’ve been room-mates.”
“So you live with your sister, right?” Darryl spits, glaring at me like I’m a cockroach worth squashing. “I should have known. You looked like trash the first time I saw you, I should have never expected you to be anything else.”
That should offend me, but my confidence is leaving me. Maybe I did lead him on. The way he reacts, as if I owe him something, it confuses me.  Inexplicable guilt crawls up from my stomach, but Igor’s deep voice tears through that.
“You better watch your language, you sorry piece of shit.”
Darryl’s lips become a hard line as he prepares his comeback. I can feel the muscles in Igor’s arm work around my shoulders, and one glance at his large hand confirms he’s clenched his fist. Shit, if this escalates, he’s gonna rip the guy apart.
“Listen, why don’t we all take a deep breath, all right? This has been nothing but a big misunderstanding.” I hold up my hands, but I get the opposite effect of what I wanted. Igor’s body heats up, his arm like a stove around my shoulders in the chilly evening. His dragon fire is mounting, and he’s staring daggers at Darryl.
“Darryl got the wrong impression, that’s all.” I turn to my date, placing a hand on my heart. “Listen, you’re a great catch, any girl would be lucky to have your attention. I was flattered, too, so I went along with it, and that wasn’t fair to you, because I wasn’t ready. You see, I—” But he interrupts me before I get to tell him about my strange condition of autophagy and draining energy, and how I desperately needed contact to the outside world, to people, because I was going to go insane in isolation.
“Oh, save it,” he bites out. “I get it. It’s fucking obvious.” His eyes spit venom at Igor and me. “You were hopelessly into your room-mate. You probably fuck, too, whenever he feels like it, of course. But if you think you can fuck your way into a real relationship with him, let me burst your bubble now. Guy’s top of the food chain, he probably fucks a second-hand rag like you every other day.”
My skin burns in indignation, but a second later I just stare with an open mouth, flabbergasted. Igor reaches in and grabs Darryl by his throat.
***
 

The book’s gonna be ready for you by the middle of the month! But here are the first two books of the series, if you’re feeling impatient.
DRAGON CHRONICLES

JOIN ME ON TIKTOK FOR MORE HOT SNIPPETS OF MY BOOKS.

Desired by the Fae Prince – Excerpt

Okay folks, so this month I intend to release two books. One of them is a fae novella, Desired by the Fae Prince, and the second one is the third installment of my dragon shifter series, Dragon Chronicles, a book titled The Dragon’s Game. While The Dragon’s Game might take until the beginning of February to hit the Zon, Desired by the Fae Prince is going to come out at the end of this coming week! Here is the opening excerpt. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

***

Runar Hauldron is a fae prince in glimmering armor, but behind all that, he’s nothing but a monster. Yes, he’s a starlight fae, outrageously handsome, and he’s the ruler of this kingdom. And yes, he’s the one who made Fort Solar into what it is today, namely one of the most vibrant kingdoms in the realm. But he built all that on a pile of bodies.

Including the bodies of my family, and it probably won’t be long until I disappear down that deep black hole, too. Still, the ‘Why’ needs a bit of a backstory.

Perched on the highest mountain and overlooking the ocean, Fort Solar is one of those gems crisscrossed by winding streets that brim with magic, and bustle with business. There are stands overflowing with precious silks and gems along the roads, while special shops hold the rarest magic items. If you’re after something rare and valuable, you’re sure to find it here, which is why people travel to Fort Solar from all over the world.

The dark side to all of this abundance is that it’s procured by the blood and sweat of those like my family. Of metahumans, namely humans born with some magical abilities that we’d be better off without because all they’re doing for us is make us useful to oppressive royalty like Runar Hauldron. In Fort Solar, and all over the realm, really, we’re the lowest class. Only fit to be servants, and even slaves. No task is too low and no work too hard. Half of us die in the colonies, extracting magical gems and metals from the rock. Being traded among the rich and powerful is what happens on a good day. Surely it’s obvious there’s no breaking from that social class, no chance at higher education, no opportunities.

Which is why I am here now, at the old wine cellars that have been closed to the public for decades, meeting with the closest thing we metahumans have to a secret society. One that’s been built to break the social order, and bring down evil princes like Runar.

“We’re not nearly strong enough to strike now,” Cary blurts out—one of the prince’s servants, and my closest friend. He jumps up from his chair with wide eyes and a scared pale face. “It’s a handful of us, against one of the most powerful men in the realm!”

“It’s now or never, Cary,” the old sage replies. He’s the leader of our group and the person who made the proposition. When he speaks the rest of us hardly dare breathe, but this is a hard pill to swallow for all of us, which is why Cary grows hysterical.

“I work for the prince’s inner circle, I know what we’re up against,” he argues. “You can’t imagine the kind of security the man has around him at all times. And even if, by some absurd chance, anyone got close enough to assassinate him, he’s fucking Runar Hauldron! The slayer of the Great Unseelie King, he’s the man who defeated the Unseelie armies. Some say he’s the best swordsman in the entire realm, and I’ve seen him in close combat. Trust me, the guy is a weapon!”

“And yet we must find a way to kill him!” voices rise from the other side of the table.

“Before his dark mist kills every single metahuman outside his castle,” someone else chimes in desperately, murmurs of approval rising.

The old sage remains quiet.

“We don’t stand a chance,” Cary insists, exasperated. “Not like this. We need a plan, and we need someone strong to do it. It needs to be a supernatural, a powerful one, like him.”

“The boy is right,” a plump maid says, wringing her hands over her apron. “I work close circle, too. And we’re not ready to attempt an assassination, we might never be, not during our lifetimes. It’s just a handful of us, while there’s an entire world of them. I am fully committed to our cause but, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think any of us can do it. I don’t think we can do it even if we all attack as one, together. This kind of mission needs a few generations’ preparation.”

“And it needs military training, years of it,” another man puts in.

“Or a skilled, experienced mercenary,” another one cries from the back.

“I will do it,” I say.

All faces at the table turn toward me, surprise slapped onto them.

But the old sage doesn’t seem thrown off at all. He opens his mouth like a man with a vision, his white eyes seeming to stare at something compelling.

“The high spirits have spoken,” he muses. “It will be Sandra of the Ray.”

“What do you mean? She’s just a girl, an orphan you took under your roof. She doesn’t look like she can survive a storm, let alone the prince,” the man next to the maid says. I strain to remember his name. Oh yes, Goran Dukovnic. He and the maid—his wife—keep to themselves a lot. Her name is Lativia, if I remember correctly. Goran is a reserved guy who looks like a dependable handyman, complete with a square jaw, scruffy stubble, and a grey shirt with rolled-up sleeves that reveal strong forearms.

“You have to give us more than that, oh Wise One,” Lativia adds, giving me an appraising side-look. “Because the only idea that seems crazier than attempting assassination at this point is to send a child to do it, because that’s what she is, basically.”

“I stopped being a child the day that bastard took my family away from me,” I spit out through gritted teeth, reliving in my mind the dark mist seeping into our home and taking them away, cold and indifferent to my desperate screams. I kept trying to claw at it, but there was nothing I could grab onto, only black air. My knuckles show white as I tighten my fists on the table. “He made me an orphan! Prince Runar sent that mist, as he always does when he needs to feed the dark power that fuels him. I will stop him, or die trying.”

“Pace yourself, my child,” the old sage says in his raspy and yet soothing voice. “That you would offer yourself tonight was foretold by the high spirits. I was waiting for you to say the words. And now that you have, destiny is sealed. Still, it won’t be easy.”

“The high spirits spoke to you about this? They announced it should be me? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it had to come from you. What you did is a willing offering to the high spirits. Your intention sends precious scents towards the sky, like burning incense.”

“But why would the high spirits want it to be me?” I look up at the sky, holding up my palms. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. I’ve dreamt about this for many years, ever since—” Since the only people who ever loved me were sucked away by that dark mist as if they’d never existed, and I had to go live with my uncle. But I clench my jaw before the words leave my mouth. After all these years, I still can’t talk about it. My uncle was the best baker in Fort Solar, and a kind man, yet his wife was another story. She beat me daily, bruised me, her bestiality growing until she broke my ribs. Even then, she had me keep wiping the floor, while she kept kicking me.

That’s when I ran away, hunched over and holding to my side until I collapsed at the old sage’s door. He took me in, as he often took orphans. Still, he probably saw my arrival as sent by the high spirits, because he always treated me as if I was something special, even though I’m not.  I’m just a twenty-one year old wretch, without any special magical abilities except my relationship to plants. I can feel their roots, and their magical powers. Also, I’m not particularly pretty, despite Cary’s insistences on the contrary. I’m too skinny, with high cheekbones that used to look skeletal when the old sage first took me in, and small grey eyes. My hair is a heap of sand-colored hay, and my lips are thin because I made a habit of keeping them tight, giving my face a forever tense look. Still, that didn’t stop unwanted advances from men, especially when the old sage sent me to get herbs from the market or get water from the well. They’d never marry a wretch like me, but they’d sure fuck me on the edge of the well, or behind a market stand. Cary says they’re attracted to my vulnerability and femininity, but I think that’s bull. They’re attracted to how easy it is to prey on me and then dump me. The only man who ever truly cared about me that way is Cary. But no matter how badly I wish I could return his feelings, I just can’t.

Cary is also an orphan who grew up in the old sage’s house, and he’s the closest thing I have to a brother. We grew up as family. But then he started opening up to me about his true feelings since he got that job at the castle, arguing he’s got enough money now to feed another mouth, but I can’t do this to him. Not with the bitterness and anger that have been living inside me for ten years like coiling serpents.

“Who can say they can decipher the mind of the high spirits,” the old sage says. “There’s not a wise one in the world who can claim they’ve had more than mere glimpses of its divine essence. But those glimpses are priceless, and they reveal a whole world of meaning. They foretold it could only be you, my child. Only you can discover Prince Runar’s weak spot. And only you can bring him down.”

“What if he doesn’t have a weak spot?” the maid inquires. “I’ve been at the castle for a long time, and I didn’t discover any.”

“Neither have I,” Cary says.

“The high spirits have a plan, and it will be revealed to us as we go,” the old sage muses, his sightless white eyes directed at the sky, as if he were receiving answers from the high spirits as we speak. We can all feel his connection to the higher planes, to something divine and timeless that yet needs us, creatures made of flesh, to put its divine plans into action.

“We would be risking Sandra’s life,” Cary argues, shaking his head in refusal. “I can’t let that happen.”

“Then help me,” I reply, making eye contact, which gives him pause. I’ve been avoiding looking at him directly for weeks. “Help me get in. Help me get close to him. And when the time comes, help me end the bastard.”

***

Sandra

I can’t remember the last time I felt as light in my chest as I do now, emerging from the old wine cellars. I pull my hood over my head, making sure to stay inconspicuous as I round the corner into a side alley, and then weave my way through the crowded market. Right in the middle of it there’s a statue of the starlight prince that a secret society has just agreed—however reluctantly—that I’m going to kill.

I shield my eyes against the sun to stare up at a prince Runar made of gold and precious gems. The statue depicts him in motion on a mighty stallion, sword raised high above his head, his long golden hair blowing in the wind. His armor, encrusted with precious stones, is built specifically to showcase his athletic body which is, at least in this statuesque depiction, a fantastically beautiful thing. I scoff to myself. Pretty sure he doesn’t look like that in reality. I mean, he is fae and all, but this is fucking perfection, and I’m not buying it.

Needless to say I’ve never seen the fae prince up close. But in only a few days, Cary hooks me up with a job at his court. On Wednesday, I finally get to lay eyes on him.

The first sight is from afar, of course, since the castle is humungous, and filled with nobility and military all day long. There’s less activity at night, but the corridors are never empty. The prince is always surrounded by a bunch of generals and advisors, and he seems to be working a lot, from early morning until late at night. If he’s ever alone, one can’t know when and where, yet Cary says he often spends his nights in the castle library.

But the doors are never open, and I can’t roam the castle too much at night. I might get lost if I do anyway, not only because of the winding corridors, but because of all the magic this place is imbued with. Magic meant to protect and to kill. So I have to work my way closer and closer to the prince, which I finally succeed at a Friday dinner that he throws for his closest staff. Cary made sure that I got a serving slot here, and it wasn’t easy. When I finally approach enough to get a good look at the prince’s face, I freeze with the tray of starters in my hands.

In person, Runar Hauldron is even more majestic that the statue I saw of him days ago. He’s so large that that statue of him might as well have been real-size, even though I know that’s just an illusion. He’s big, yes, as all fae are, especially the warrior types, but the larger-than-life impression he makes is something that comes from the inside. His face is milky white, his features so beautiful he’s compelling to look at, and his blonde hair falls in flowing waves down to his waist. I never thought I’d find a pretty boy so attractive, but there’s an inherent masculinity about Runar despite his ethereal beauty. He’s not wearing his armor, but a white linen shirt that’s almost see-through, and that reveals contours of his powerfully built body. He sure looks like a prince descended from the stars, which is what starlight fae are. Compared to him, I’m a blade of grass with eyes.

“Close your mouth, your jaw dropped,” Cary says as he brushes by me. I stir from the enchantment of prince Runar and make eye contact with Cary long enough to catch the jealousy in his gaze. He walks away, placing a tray of steak and one of side-dishes on the table. I manage to make my way close to the prince so that I have to lean in and place my own tray on the table right next to him. My arm brushes over his in the process.

Current runs through me when it happens, sending a shudder all through my body. And when the prince’s ocean-blue gaze meets mine, I freeze in place. The world seems to tilt around me. Is this a special power of his, making humans feel dizzy in the head just from looking at him?

“How dare you touch the prince?” one of the men at his table reacts. The hostility of his voice tears me from the enthrallment of the prince’s gaze, and my head snaps to him in time to see one of the generals reach out and grab my wrist with the look of a mad dog on his face. “So typical of metahuman filth, to think you can rub yourself in the face of royalty just because you serve at their table.”

The fae general has already started to drag me towards the exit before I even realize what’s happening. My feet skid on the polished floor, making a squeaking sound, and my face heats up as the general’s grip tightens around  my neck. It’s like an iron vise, inescapable. It’s like I’ve been literally grabbed by a machine.  I claw at his hand, desperate to free my windpipes, but he’s too strong. The last thing I see before squeezed-out tears blur my vision is Cary’s stricken face as we pass him by. He’s unable to react because, I realize, this must all be happening too fast for him, but a voice as strong as thunder stops the general in his tracks.

“Harthuil, let her go!”

The man stops abruptly, but it’s seconds before he drops me. I hit the floor, coughing, not even trying to come up to my feet. I know it would be a futile attempt. I take my hand to my throat to make sure nothing is broken, since part of me wonders how come I’m still alive. There’s an exchange of lines around me, two men talking, the thundering voice giving orders, while the other accepts them meekly. It takes some time until enough oxygen finds its way back into my head so I can make any sense of it. When I do, I understand the kind of trouble I’m in, and my eyes pop out of my head.

***

Enjoyed this? Plenty more where it came from. Check out some of my other fae books here and here, so you have something you can binge until this one comes out. I love to hear from you. so leave me a comment and tell me how you liked this excerpt, and what you’d like to see in this new book. I always take your suggestions to heart.

Forbidden Fae is LIVE! Read the first chapter here

It’s been an intense ride, but this fae fantasy romance is LIVE, exclusive on Amazon and in KU! I have grown attached to the story and the characters as I wrote it, and it’s safe to say often I got lost in them. Here is the first chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and feel free to leave a comment, or share it with people you know might enjoy an intense fae romance for Christmas : )

BLURB:

A fae prince made of shadow and smoke whisked me off to another realm—with dark intentions.

We humans are nothing but lowly creatures to the fae. They’re arrogant and cruel, and who could blame them? They’re formidable beings, and they consider us nothing but mortal bundles of flesh, worthy only of the dirt under their feet. Only that this particular bundle of flesh—Yours Truly—is the shadow fae’s only chance of survival as a race.

Salazar Shadowthorn, their prince, needs me in order to rise to former glories. He’s deadly and feared, but his enemies are as many as his admirers. And they’re after his most valuable possession—me. I may be his slave, but it turns out I’m special. I have magic, and Salazar needs to help me scale it in order to use me for his purposes. Still, we were never meant to become more than master and slave. In his world, it shouldn’t even be possible. But as enemies emerge from the shadows, both Salazar and I are faced with a truth we can’t deny—if we want to win this, we have to give in to that dark, dangerous calling that we feel towards each other. Problem is, it comes with a huge price.

CHAPTER I

Neveah

Hutchinson, Massachusetts, is a cursed place. With the ocean waves crashing against its dark cliffs, and thick forests surrounding it, this town has always had a foreboding air about it. I think it was this very gloom fit for a mystery movie setting that drew all the rich and famous to buy holiday estate here, though I’m sure its secluded location played a part too. As did the expensive private school.

Almost the entire population of Hutchinson consists of rich kids abandoned by their high-flying parents at the Ivy League Anne Hutchinson High, living under the meek supervision of their staff. Many seniors used to throw wild parties at their mansions, but the partying has died down now.  All gates and doors are locked after dark, and the most expensive alarm systems switched on, because some seriously weird shit has been going down.

Two people went missing in the past month, and nobody has a clue what could have happened to them. It’s like they vanished into thin air, and neither police nor press, not even private investigators have gotten a single lead so far. Both of these people were from my school, and both of them female. The first was Georgia Hathaway, head cheerleader and wet dream of the entire male population at Anne Hutchinson High. The second one was Josephine Norman, a Scandinavian cold beauty with straight As in science and serious abandonment issues. She’s also my best friend.

If we’re looking at a crime, the victims are two people who couldn’t have less in common.

Josie’s disappearance has left behind two picture perfect parents, probably not as devastated as the media portrays them to be. Her father runs a film-making company, her former model mother does charities, and both of them always dreaded having to spend time with their child. There wasn’t ever any real emotional connection between them, Josie said. A child was a box that needed to be ticked before her mother turned thirty-five, so they adopted her from Scandinavia. But the glamor of being a new mom faded for the former model rather quickly, which means that Josie was mostly raised by maids and nurses.

She’s had to deal with some serious bullying at school, too, and if anyone understands bullying, and how far it can go, it’s me. As a working-class kid who’s gotten into an Ivy League high school through a scholarship, I’m nothing but a parasite to the high-flyers. One they take great pleasure in torturing. I can barely walk the hallways without being called all sorts of names, and my locker gets vandalized so often it’s not even funny anymore. A-hole Lachlan Vallar, popular jackass with a face crisscrossed by chicken pox scars but a frame big enough and a proclivity for violence steep enough to scare all the other guys shitless, never runs out of ideas. He’s the reason I always try to close the distance from school to the dorms as quickly as possible on my bike. I don’t want to give him a chance to drive after me, calling out all the things he’d do to me if I just joined him and his mates in his car.

“Neveah McKinney, you little tramp, no point hiding those perky tits behind that oversized sweater. We all know you’re dying to have cum squirting all over them,” he’d yell after me in front of all his mates, window down. ‘Tramp’ is his favorite word to use on me. I can almost taste his pleasure as he rounds the word in his mouth, and it disgusts the hell out of me. He likes painting it on my locker, and he’s threatened it’s only a matter of time until it’s tattooed on my ass, too.

I really can’t afford to stop until I get to the dorms, but a street lamp with a large Missing Person sign stops me in my tracks. I dismount my bike and hook my fingers tighter around the straps of my backpack as I stare into Josie’s face, her spectacles fitting her bone structure perfectly, but barely hiding her ever-gloomy expression. Tears come to my eyes, along with some of the most painful memories we shared.

“There she is, Hutchinson High’s sweetest little tramp.”

I spin around. Damn it, the bastard is approaching on foot, and I’d been relying on the loud rumbling of his sports car to announce his presence. I back away towards the street light as he and his friends close in on me like hyenas. Lachlan is the biggest of them all, always in the spotlight, while the others lick their snouts, anticipating the show. Josie said they might be getting off on watching Lachlan torture a skinny girl in oversized clothing. My mousy brown hair and unassuming pale face that I never apply make-up to doesn’t seem to cock-block him either. On the contrary, it seems this helpless school-girl look only turns on his dirtiest fantasies.

“Now I’m getting it, Neveah McKinney,” Lachlan says, grabbing my sweater loosely. “The baggy clothes, the gypsyish hair. It’s all a part you’re dressing up for. You know it turns me on, and it’s why you do it.”

“I’m not trying to stand out to you,” I spit out, but Lachlan’s grin gives me the chills.

“Come on, you know that’s not true.” He traps me against the street light as my backpack hits the pole. I’m shaking, my eyes feel hot, and I’m hardly blinking. He grips my face, forcing me to look up into his. It distorts with a larger grin, the chicken pox scars tightening on his skin. “Why don’t you let me feel those tits.” He pushes one hand under my oversized sweater.

“You mother—” I try to hit him, but he slams me against the pole.

“Get that backpack off of her,” he orders the others, who hurry to do his bidding and rake the backpack’s straps off of me. I struggle, desperation clouding my vision and making me wonder who this is happening to, because it can’t be me.

Lachlan’s lackeys hold me still, enjoying the show as he pushes his hands under my sweater, grabbing my breasts over my bra so harshly that I yelp.

“The more you struggle, the more difficult you’re going to make this on yourself.”

“Are you crazy, you can’t rape me! The police—” But then it hits me. What if he did the same to Georgia and Josie, and then did away with their bodies? My lips seal as the scenario runs before my eyes. No, it can’t be, Lachlan is a bastard, but he can’t possibly be a killer. Can he?

“And who do you think the police would believe?” he says. “You’re a nobody. No one in Hutchinson has ever heard your last name, which makes your family pretty much shit. Whereas mine…” He wriggles his hairless eyebrows, a gesture that finishes the sentence for him. He’s someone, I’m no one. He pushes his groin into me, his engorged member pressing like a gun into my lower belly.

“I’m gonna give you this dick, you little tramp.”

I scream and struggle like a lunatic against the other goons’ hold. They might beat me to a pulp to get me to quiet down, but it’s worth it if it draws someone’s attention, anyone’s. Only there is nothing but the great expanses of gardens between the gates hidden behind trees, and the rich mansions they belong to.

The street lamp behind me starts flickering as if some electric field were messing with it. Lachlan’s goons’ hold slackens enough for me to shake myself free of them, but that only prompts Lachlan to yank me closer. I knock against his meaty body, his beefy arms closing around me. They choke the air out of me as the light goes out completely.

Such complete darkness takes over that I wouldn’t even be sure whether the world still existed if it weren’t for Lachlan’s very real body against mine, the side of my face pressed into his chest. He whispers something above my head, his breath on my hair. To my surprise, it’s not something threatening. On the contrary, it’s monotone and calm, like some kind of magic spell. I still, listening as the darkness thickens. I’ll be damned, I would recognize those words anywhere. I know them, I’ve read them before, in my favorite books.

Legends of the Fae.

The books have been passed down through my family for generations, and I’ve been obsessed with them since the first time I read them. I have them in my dorm, on the upper shelf along with a few framed pictures and a music box, some of the few things from my childhood that I’m fond of. I used to find refuge in those books, take comfort in their fictional world, which is why I remember whole chunks of them. But that doesn’t explain how come Lachlan is whispering spells from Legends of the Fae. Dark spells, spells that are supposed to invoke shadows and smoke. The more he does it, the tighter he squeezes me as if he wants to suck me into himself, and the more I panic, rummaging desperately through my own mind for a solution. My mind gets stuck on the light spells that I know by heart from the same books, spells that dispelled shadows in the series.

Computing with a speed that I never thought it capable of, my brain plucks the words from the recesses of my memory. I breathe them into Lachlan’s chest, my eyes closed tightly. It takes a monumental effort to calm myself down enough to do it, emulating the characters from my favorite book series. If Legends of the Fae is the answer, then I must be completely calm for the spells to work, like the characters in the series had to be.

Run the moonglow through my veins,

Take the shadow by the reins,

Blind it with the silver light,

That shall carry all my might.

The street light starts flickering again. I try not to rejoice, but keep myself in that steady low frequency, and continue whispering the spells. ‘There’s a fine line between feeling the right thing and feeling nothing’, Legends of the Fae, Book One, said. But I lose the frail balance when Lachlan lets me go, and I catch a glimpse of his face—utter surprise and anger are imprinted on  it.

“H-how is this possible?” he breathes, but I’m not gonna stick around to find out what he means. I take advantage of the fact that he let me go and break into a run, feeling his stricken eyes on my back as I give it all I have, heaving and forcing myself to go as fast as my legs will take me.

I should probably wonder why they aren’t coming after me. Maybe because they’re big and heavy, while I’m small and light on my feet, yet by the time I reach the expanse of lawn and snaking alleyways in front of the dorm building I hear them behind me, calling out my name. I keep saying the spells under my breath, and lights flicker on along the alleyway leading to the red brick dorm building. It seems the light causes Lachlan and his goons to fall back like vampires hit by sunlight.

I always keep my key card in the back pocket of my jeans, so I manage to take it out in time and swipe it through the entrance device. As soon as I’ve leapt inside, I force the door shut again, the system being too slow, my whole face scrunched and red from the effort. I succeed at the last moment, expecting my chasers to slam against the frosted windowpanes the moment the door falls into its locks.

I take a few steps back, eyes on the fuzzy white light that makes it through the frosted windowpane. The only sounds I can make out is the sound of my own breathing and the slow shuffling of my steps. Seconds feel like minutes as my eyes keep stuck to the windows. I’m not even blinking. Had this happened last month, it would have been surprising that no one’s on the hallways, no boisterous students disregarding some disgruntled teacher on night watch. But since the disappearances, an air of doom has been hanging over this town, and now all those daredevils prefer to keep out of the spotlight.  Muscular heartthrobs and alphaholes with black belts keep their doors locked. There’s never any sign of a girl in the hallways at night, and I don’t want to hang around here for too long either.

I find my way back to my room, holding carefully onto the banister. Those goons could be thinking of something as we speak. The sensors should have picked up my presence on the hallway, for example, and turned on the lights, but that doesn’t happen. I might be falling down the steep slope of paranoia, but I can’t help thinking that maybe those bastards outside did something to cut the power off. But they wouldn’t go this far for a bullying job, would they? Or maybe this turned out more serious than they planned, and now they have to go all the way. Threatening a woman with rape in the street has consequences even for the big and powerful these days, no matter how insignificant the victim. Could they be dangerous just because they panicked?

I take the last few steps to my room at a run, slide my key card through the device attached to the knob, and storm into what I expect to be the warmth and dim light of my matchbox dorm room, but something’s wrong. The lamp on my desk by the window is off, and the heavy curtains apparently drawn, casting the room into total darkness. I stop in my tracks, the door still open behind me. I need a few seconds to make sense of this. I’m sure I let the lamp on—it has an energy-saving bulb—in order to make it look like someone’s home. There has been some breaking-and-entering going on lately. I’m pretty sure I didn’t pull the curtains shut either.

The wheels in my head turn faster as I start walking backwards, re-considering the safety of the only place I’ve ever really felt safe in. I turn around, ready to break into a run, but the door slams shut. In shock, I don’t even scream. I stand here in the darkness as it starts wrapping around  me like the arms of a man.

A very strong man, because his arms don’t give in an inch as I struggle. I scream in panic, but the darkness thickens, swallowing the sound.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

I return to the one thing that worked when Lachlan and his goons got me in the street.  I take a deep breath, even though what fills my lungs is smoke, and not air. Maybe there’s a fire somewhere close, but then again, if there were fire there would also be light. Not to mention the alarm would be tearing all through the dorm building, and other students would be running out of their rooms, trying to save themselves.

With my fists clenched and my back against something that feels like stone, I say the spell again. I can hear the lamp fuse buzzing on my desk, and the man holding me whips around, turning me in the process. The lamp keeps spewing out silver light, as if struggling on its own. My captor no longer holds me, but he’s not gone either. I can feel his presence so heavily that I can’t breathe.

A face begins to take shape from the swirling smoke, and the more I see of it, the lower my jaw drops. It’s a horned man with angular cheekbones, square jaw and completely black eyeballs. I was never much of a believer in good and evil as the religions serve them, but this must be a vision from hell, and this guy must be a demon stepping out of a portal of smoke. Probably the same one that took Georgia and Josie, too.

“No, this can’t be real.”

“Neveah McKinney.” His voice sounds as demonic as his eyes look, raising the finest hairs along my spine. “Daughter of Leah McKinney, born Silverstone, only female descendant of the Silverstone family. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” There are leather pads on his broad shoulders, and those horns look more and more like a crown. He’s obviously strong, stronger than any human could be, and his face, even though masculine and aggressive in its lines, has an ethereal kind of beauty to it. Long black hair frames his face, and his skin has the color of moonlight.

“You wield magic. You use spells from books you shouldn’t possess,” he continues. “Now, where are those books?”

I don’t have to ask what he means. Legends of the Fae, the trilogy  mom gifted to me on Christmas Eve, ten years ago. Back then, I thought she only gave me the books with their chipped covers and old illustrations because she couldn’t afford to buy something new. She was already drinking heavily at that point, and Dad had started down the same path, having failed to save her. That’s where all their money went.

“You’re gonna have to let me turn on the light to find them.” My voice trembles as I point in the general direction of the shelves where I keep them. The demon smiles in the corner of his mouth, a knowing, almost seductive smile. His silence feels like an invitation, so I turn on the lamp, this time with my hand.

I walk carefully to the shelves, rise onto the tips of my toes, and slide the cased omnibus set from the upper shelf. I keep my back to the demon for a few moments, clutching the trilogy to my chest and wondering whether I should try and make a run for it. But maybe I can negotiate with him.

“If this is what you’re after, you can take them,” I say. “You can have them with my blessing. But I’m gonna want Georgia Hathaway and Josephine Norman back.”

“Oh, I will take the books.  And I will take you as well.”

“What? Why? All I remember from these books is that spell. You came here for the books, and you have them now. What could you possibly do with me? I mean look at me!” I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, I’m babbling like an idiot, backing away towards the closed door until there’s nowhere left to go. The demon—or shadow fae, it occurs to me as I start remembering the stories inside those books—stands still, wisps of smoke swirling around him until they spread over the entire room. They crawl over the ceiling and the walls, my bookshelves and my bed, exuding so much power that I can feel it crawling over my skin.

It’s magical power. I desperately try to free myself from the wisps that curl around me, pulling me closer to their master, but not even the light spells can help me now. The desk lamp goes out, and now the only source of light is this fae man’s frosty face, its natural glow that resembles moonlight.

“I didn’t come here for the books. I came here for you.”

***

Go on reading here

Personality Test – Discover Yourself Book Covers 1

Okay luv, here’s the drill: Look at the four book covers displayed and, without peeking at the answers below (this is really important!) decide which one of these images feels closest to your heart. (I only included the book descriptions as a helping tool, in case you need the gist of the story in order to decide.) Try to make your choice from the gut and not from the head. The cover that speaks to you might be the one you least expect. Doesn’t matter. Let your gut choose. It would be very helpful if you decided on your answer in the first fifteen seconds. So here we go: Which one of the following book covers hits home for you?

Zepp Hunt wasn’t the king of Dayton high school. He was the top of the food chain. And I was next in line to be dragged into the lion’s den. At least that’s what he thought… Good girls wanted to tame him. Bad girls wanted to be tainted by him. Everyone bowed down to him. And me? I hated Zeppelin Hunt with every fiber of my being. Which was why I stayed away from the arrogant bad boy with tattoos and a rap sheet. Until I couldn’t. Until we traded favors, and I owed him three months of my life. I never thought I would end up in his bed, and when I did, I had to remind myself that he hated me as much as I hated him. Until I didn’t. Zepp Hunt was no prince, and I absolutely refused to be his damsel in distress…

I came back to Forsyth and agreed to be their Lady for two reasons: protection and revenge.

I put up with the abuse, the degradation, the humiliation, and bided my time. I wanted vengeance and I took it. The Lords give as good as they get and the consequences were fierce, but there’s one truth when it comes to Killian, Dimitri and Tristian.

They keep what’s theirs.

They wanted to break me, but instead, they molded me into their perfect weakness. They fought for me. Bled for me. Championed for me. I was put through the gauntlet and came out stronger. I earned the title of Lady.

Then they became my weakness.

I agreed to sleep under their roof, but on my terms. No more rules, no more punishments, no cameras or dress codes or sneaking into my bedroom. In return, I’ll give them a chance to earn the title of Lord.

Building trust takes time, but with all the threats nipping at our heels, that’s a luxury we don’t have. We have to rely on one another despite our complicated pasts—to find a murderer, a stalker, and a traitor.

This new life of pain, wrath, and mercy is a confusing maze of twists and turns. Fortunately for us, there will always be one fixed constant, guiding us home:

He wants revenge, but he wants her more.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy.
His belly full of laughter, his life full of joy.
Until one day, something changed; stripped his innocence away.
The hole inside making space for the devil to come and play.
His dreams gone forever, he grew up way too fast.
An endless night of crocodiles, and watches made of glass.
He grew into a villain, the taste of vengeance on his tongue.
Craving to make his enemies pay for the misdeeds they had done.
Instead he found a darling girl, and refused to let her go.
For what better way to make the man pay, than to steal his little shadow.

He is Dracula’s son. They call him Michael the Bad because the only thing that matches his wicked good looks is his vicious nature. Every creature in the London underground knows better than to cross him, but Angelique Serrano didn’t get the memo. Now he’s got a score to settle with her. But will he do it when he realizes that she’s the key to destroying his oldest and most dangerous enemy?

If you chose NO PRINCE

You are firmly anchored in reality, and that might have turned you a bit cynical, but it doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to believe in the positive. Depression and hopelessness may come forth in your life as they do in most people’s lives, but you draw on inner reservoires of power that most of us don’t even dream of. You have the strength to stand up to bullies, even though you may not know it yet (depending on your age and life experience). Your life meaning could include that of a savior (don’t do anything stupid, like facing up to big bad guys without proper back-up!), counselor, social worker, psychologist or nurse. If you really want to, you can twist bad boys on your little finger. Anger could be a benefic emotion for you, provided you learn to harness it in a positive way. Anger gives you fuel. You can put up a strong front if you want to, and your powerful personality could crush just anybody, but deep down, you would like to be dominated – but only by someone who’s up to the task. If you’re mature, you put the candidates through hell before they earn that right.

If you chose LORDS OF MERCY:

You’ve often felt used in your life. You’ve grown accustomed to it to a certain point, but when things go too far, you do get triggered. Be careful, you might have a proclivity to fall in love with emotionally unavailable people. Trouble is, deep down you don’t believe you are worthy of love. But that comes with an upside. You’re capable of depth and empathy that goes way beyond what most people are capable of. In the star sign language, your energy is very pisces or scorpionic in nature. You can be bitter and vindictive, and an oppnent to be reckoned with. If you want to, you know how to make people take you seriously. You’re capable of violence. Believe it or not, you’d make a good soldier, provided you’re kept motivated, and you strongly believe in the cause – which is pretty hard to do. You’re rarely convinced of the legitimacy of a cause. You rarely trust enough to get attached but, when you do, you’re capable of extreme loyalty. You can be abrasive on the outside, but once someone gets to the deeper layers of your personality, the rewards are abundant.

If you chose HOOKED:

You have a highly inquisitive nature. You like all things dark and hidden, and you might feel compulsive about solving mysteries and discovering secrets. You’re highly intelligent and creative – even though you might prefer deciphering the creations of others than creating your own stuff. You’ll follow a task to the bitter end, sooner or later. You might not solve things immediately, but you always get around to bringing every open issue in your life to a close. Poetic and sophisticated, you either fascinate or intimidate people. You can be very alluring if you choose to. You’re sharp-minded, and you have the endurance to see a project through (especially if some kind of mystery is involved to keep you going). A particular perk of yours is that you can make people feel comfortable and accomodated. You give them space to be themselves (not always without quietly judging them, you’re not Mother Theresa, but you do have an innate understanding of human needs, and of how to put people in a mood that will give you what you want from them).

If you chose PRINCE MICHAEL THE BAD:

You could have an addictive personality, which is a double-edged sword – you can become an addict, but you can create addictions as well. You never give up on your dreams, even though you might tell yourself you have. No matter whether you’re thirteen or thirty or sixty-five, whatever you haven’t yet accomplished in life (especially on the romantic front), you still believe, deep down, your time will come. You have good intuition. Your gut rarely ever failed you. You might harbor a special reverance for ‘the good old days’, drawing wisdom and strength from tradition. You like things sleek and elegant, and you might also like control. You can spot lies easily. In terms of partners, you might choose the cold and reserved person over the popular and fun one, simply because they inspire you more stability. You trust their decision to be with you long term, and that they are not as easily swayed as most people. Physical appearance only matters in terms of, ‘there’s something special about this person that I can’t really put my finger on, but I’d jump their bones twenty-four seven.’ You might be attracted to weird people.

Liked this? Plenty more where this personality test came from. Explore the Discover Yourself section of this site, and you’ll find an abundant trove of personality tests. Also, don’t forget to like and comment if you enjyoed this post, and let me know what you’ve got. I’m mega curious!

Vampire Rockstar Fragment

Hello folks! As I haven’t told anybody, my new vampire romance Vampire Rockstar is coming out by the 22nd of this month. This is my Halloween contribution to the world, as I like writing intense dark stuff, so here is a fragment I particularly enjoyed writing. Let me know what you think, and oh! If you can’t wait until the book is out, you can enjoy the first two books of this series (Vampires), The Porcelain Prince and Vampire Idol on Amazon. The books are free in Kindle Unlimited, and every book in this series (Vampires) can be read as a standalone, in case you were wondering. So here’s what Vampire Rockstar is about, and the fragment I promised.

Blurb Vampire Rockstar

Gigi
One job to make it big—get pictures of the world’s most famous boy band at one of their private events in London, and sell them to the tabloids. But things don’t go as planned, and I end up in a dark alleyway with a stalker on my tracks. Hours later, I’m the captive of Diesel van San, rockstar, holder of the ‘sexiest man alive’ title and, as it turns out, vampire.
Diesel wants me to use my connections to the London underground to locate his biggest enemy, and he’ll be keeping me under his complete control until I get him that. But his desires become more personal as we go, and it’s impossible to resist them. I keep reminding myself that Diesel van San is a player, a predator, a young god in piercings and tattoos that no woman can hold down. But he’s also got powers no woman can resist, and he’s determined to bring me to my knees.  He wants to own me, do me, make me his own personal call girl, but that’s not all. The last bit of Diesel’s proposition goes beyond indecent. It’s dark, twisted, and God knows I should say no. And yet…

Fragment Vampire Rockstar (Where things begin to heat up):

People move out of our path as our bodyguards make way for us among them like cutting through butter. Most people here are wasted or high, but they snap out of it as they realize what they’re seeing. We must make one hell of a couple, Gigi and I, she like a classy business woman out for some weekend fun, in the company of a rock star, a bad boy, all studded leather, tattoos and piercings.

The attention of the thugs on us thickens, men in balaclavas appearing around the walls. I take Gigi’s hand in mine to make extra sure no unnecessary space is created between us. It startles her, and her first impulse is to shake out of my grip, but I clasp her tighter.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, knowing that my vampire senses allow me to hear her even over the pounding music. “They’re gonna think that we’re—”

“That ship has sailed already anyway,” I say, leaning down to her ear, not releasing her hand. “You’ve been seen at the hotel. Now you’ve been seen here with me. There’s no chance in hell that people won’t be snapping a thousand pictures of us here tonight, so there goes nothing.”

“How can you say that? Maintaining the illusion that you’re single is crucial to your career.”

“And we will keep that illusion.”

“How do you suppose we do that?” She glances down at our interlocked hands.

“By making it look like we’re just a fling to each other.”

She scoffs. “There’s no way in hell—”

“Remember your brother, and all the things I can do for him.”

We reach the table at the back of the club that my people reserved for us, and the bodyguards take their positions around it, like they’ve been instructed to. They do it in such a way that Gigi and I can still be seen at the table where whiskey, Red Bull, champagne and ice has already been arranged for us. The sight of alcohol seems to make her feel sick, or maybe it’s what I just said to her.

“Did I say anything to disgust you?” I inquire through my teeth as I invite her to take a seat on the cream sofa.

“You still ask? You just suggested we make it look like I’m your whore.”

“Or like I’m your fuckboy. You look like a badass business woman out for some fun.”

She looks up at me with startled eyes, and I burst into laughter. “I see you’re not very keen on that idea.”

“If I were a badass business woman, I sure as hell wouldn’t be taking a lover like you.”

“No?” I drop down on the sofa next to her, man-spreading and resting an arm on the back of the sofa behind her shoulders. I know I’m overstepping boundaries, but I don’t give a fuck. “And what kind of lover would you take, milady?”

“Certainly not a conceited asshole that’s become an emotional cripple after having fucked hundreds of women.”

“Asshole? We’re calling each other names now?”

Fury blazes in her cheeks. She’s wearing make-up this time, so the fire under her skin is perfectly covered, but I can smell it on her blood, and it makes me hard.

“I’m sorry for that,” she forces herself to say, pursing her red lips. I imagine smearing that red lipstick all over her face with my cock. “It’s just, it was offensive, implying that we might use each other for, you know.”

“For sex?” I spell it out for her. She nods, looking away from me and sweeping the club. She wants to drop the subject and bring it back to Shanker, the reason we’re here, but I’ll be damned if I let it.

“You know, you’ll be under my protection indefinitely, and that means there won’t be any men around you to scratch that itch. You might as well strike an arrangement with me, especially since there’s so much I can do for you.”

She scoffs without looking at me, still sweeping the club for faces she might recognize through the shisha steam and the intermittently flashing lights. The music isn’t as loud here, so we can understand each other without her having to yell. She makes to inch away from me, but I wind my arm around her shoulders and pull her back, eliciting an outraged reaction from her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m serious, Gigi. I could do much more for your brother than get him out of jail. I could fuck up those who set him up. And those are just some of the things I could do for you.”

She blinks rapidly like she can’t quite believe what she’s just heard.

“Diesel, are you seriously proposing an affair?”

My response is a long hard look at her. She stops breathing, and her heart beats so hard I can hear it as loud as the bass in the speakers.

“Wait a minute, are you going to make that a condition for getting Ronan out of jail?”

“No. I already made a promise related to that.”

“All right, then I guess the answer is a loud and clear Fuck No.”

But I won’t take no for an answer. I know how to get a yes when I want it, so I bring my mouth so close to her ear that my lips brush the shell. She feels trapped against me, her whole body is on fire, but there’s nowhere to go for her.

“Have an affair with me, and I’ll never feed on another human again.”

Her head snaps at me, her smokey eyes wide. She resembles a stricken goddess, one that I’m going to make mine and subject to my most hidden desires.

“You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“You have to feed somehow. If you don’t feed, you waste away, Aimee told me.”

“I would be feeding. On your blood exclusively.”

“What the hell are you saying?” She tries to jolt away from me, but my arm turns to stone around her.

“There’s no way in hell you just made this proposition to me.”

“I did.”

“Then there’s no way in hell I’m accepting.”

I look around the club, and fix one particularly ugly pimp just outside the circle the bodyguards make around us.

“Then prepare to get a lot of blood on your hands tonight.”

Go on reading here.

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.

Release Schedule – This is when the next book in your favorite series is being released

These past few days have been wonderfully busy. I have been working on a new fae romance (I’m obsessed with all things fae/elven lately), but I’ve also been working on the next books in my ongoing series. So this is my new release schedule, with the release dates for the next book in each of my paranormal romance series, including the bestselling ones 🙂

***

May 14thThe Darkest Fae (new standalone, prequel to the Fae of Darkness series)

May 28thDark Desires (Book Two in the Dangerous Warlocks series)

June 2020 (June 22nd)King of Flames (Book One in the Fae of Fire and Ash series)

July 2020 (July 21st)Kingdom of Fire (Book Two of the Fae of Fire and Ash series)

August 2020 (August 20th)Prince Michael the Bad (last book of the Dracula’s Bloodline series)

September 2020 (Date follows)In Sin with the Wolf (Book Four of the Magnificent Beasts series)

October 2020 (Date follows)Fall of the Red Veil (last book of the Major Arcana Academy series – reverse harem)

November 2020 (Date follows)Title follows (Book Three of the Fae of Fire and Ash series)

December 2020SURPRISE Christmas Pranormal Romance 

And this isn’t even all. I have three other novellas scheduled for this year , which will be sprinkled among these official releases, so stay tuned for more surprieses. Thank you for all your love and support, for keeping me so inspired and motivated! It means the world!

What does your Type of Guy say about you?

 

Hey, time for a new personality quiz! Enjoy it to the max!

The small decisions that we make, the things that we like and dream about, even the tastes that we enjoy, speak volumes about us. Our smallest preferences have surprisingly much to say about our personality. Often, these can reveal things we didn’t even suspect about ourselves—strengths, weaknesses, but particularly, what makes us special. If you’re anything like me, namely a Romance, Netflix and Hollywood lover,  let’s look at our type hero today.

Please take a deep breath, relax, look at the four pictures, and decide which one of these four categories of heroes appeals to you most. It’s very important that the decision you make is honest, and NOT thought through. So do not overthink it, let your decision come naturally, in no more than 10 seconds. Ready? Here we go : )

 

Interpretations:

Fae/Elf:

You have a love of beauty, which is only a mirror for what is inside you. Wait! Before you roll your eyes, know this—you’re more attractive to people than you think you are. The reason you don’t see it anymore is because someone or something stole it from you once, but that’s another story. You’re capable of a rare emotion—true admiration. When you love someone, you probably show it by doing things for them; it’s important to you to feel useful, and you usually become indispensible in the lives of those you care about. You quickly become deeply loved. You have a sweetness of heart that may lead some shady personalities to take advantage of you, but even they come to hang emotionally on you.

Vampire/Sexy Demon:

You’re one of intense passions. On the outside, you may seem calm and tame, but on the inside, you live dangerously. Your love can become obsession, but also addiction. You may be a fantastic kisser, and once you’ve got your special someone’s attention, you can become like a drug. You like intense people like yourself and, while there may be a dose of narcissism in there, it’s the good kind—you have tons to offer, and you know it. Love with you is a crazy ride of emotional stimulation. There’s no settling for a mediocre relationship for you, it’s ride or die.

Bad Boy/Mafia Boss:

Yes, it does mean the obvious, that you get your kicks from taming the bad boy, but it also means that you have the b***s to do it. You’re attracted to taming, because you got what it takes. You’re very sensual, and there’s no depth or darkness that you wouldn’t dare dive into. There’s no secret too dirty, nothing you will judge. Actually, you are wonderfully non-judgmental, even if doesn’t always look that way. Deep down, you do like to be controlled, and you might even enjoy some bondage. When you let go, enjoying your sexuality without caring what it looks like to your partner, you become hypnotizing to behold. He will come back for more.

Dark Billionaire:

Your choosing the billionaire doesn’t mean by far what some people would think. It does mean that you have a strong need for security, yes (because you most probably went through some serious sh*t in your life, stuff that most people can’t even imagine), but it also means you’re fiercely loyal, supportive even when there’s no hope left, and particularly comforting to be around. You’re a grateful person by nature, and have a sunny disposition despite a life story that could bring many to shudder. Rich life experience, people love talking to you and asking for your advice.

Enjoyed this? Plenty more where it came from. Check out the Personality Tests section for more, and join my Facebook group Addicted to Romance for more interesting stuff. Looking forward to seeing you there,

Yours,

Ana