here?” she whispered. “Where’s Uriel? Where are… my friends?”
“He threw you away,” he replied. “He gave you to me as payment. I let him keep the shard, and he let me keep you. You were no longer important to him.”
Sera let the words sink in, but in retaliation, another whispered sentence beckoned in her memories.
Words that were imprinted on her soul, from when Uriel had plunged them through her wards as she lay unconscious: “Remember, Sera. No soul is ever truly lost. You fight the hardest battle of all now. You fight for his redemption. And while you may think I am throwing you to the wolves, I do this with purpose. He couldn’t let you die. He chose you over the shard. I never thought I’d see the day a demon faltered, but there’s still enough love in his twisted heart to betray him. Use that love, Sera. Save him. Save him from Hell. Tay will be in touch.”
She stared at Azazel, breathless with the fading command. “But I was more important to you than the shard.”
Oh, he didn’t like that.
His flaws laid bare. His weakness exposed. He eased her onto the bed, so, so carefully, but the look in his eyes incinerated her. “You betrayed me.”
“I saved your life,” she pointed out. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Dark lashes shuttered his eyes as he glanced down. His gloved fist curled in the sheet, and he hauled it toward him with slow deliberation.
It whispered over her skin until she was naked. Sera could have fought for it, but she didn’t bother. She drew her legs to her chest, but the pose was just as evocative in some ways.
“I will punish you,” he said, and their eyes met as he leaned closer. “I will break you in so many ways.”
“Yes.” She nibbled on her lower lip.
A gloved hand caught her chin. “You belong to me now, Sera.”
“Sariel,” she dared.
“Sera.” His voice was flat and brooked no protest. “You will never be Sariel again. You will be Sera. My Sera. And I will make you suffer for all your sins.”
“Is that why you bound us together?”
He paused, his lips a bare inch from hers.
“I know you did,” she whispered. “I can feel it. That’s what you did to me, isn’t it?”
Two souls, bound together as one.
Azazel laughed a little, under his breath. “You have always been my ruin. You have always been the only one who could flay me bare. Yes.” Their eyes met. “I bound you to me. You walked into Hell, little angel. Think you can survive it?”
No going back.
Not for her.
But maybe it was time to face the future and deal with the past, once and for all.
“I think,” she whispered, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “That I’m not the one who has to worry about surviving. Kiss me. Love me. Ruin me.”
“And you shall do the same.”
Her smile held a multitude of sins.
“As you wish,” he breathed.
And then he leaned down and kissed her.
A kiss to burn for all eternity.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Prince of Ruins!
If you like dark, sexy heroes with a twist of the villainous, why not check out Promise of Darkness?
It’s a fairy tale twist inspired by the Hades and Persephone myth—wicked fae princes, an ancient treaty, and a princess of Summer, sent to him as tribute….
Thanks for reading xx
About the Author
Kidnapped by a dread pirate when she was a child, USA Today Bestselling Author BEC MCMASTER was raised on myth and legend, and offered her younger siblings to the goblin king many a time. Unfortunately, he did not accept.
Now she writes fantasy romance with a dark and sexy twist, which is almost as much fun.
Bec has a secret weakness for villainous heroes, wicked fae princes and dangerous vampires, though in all her daydreams, she’s the one rescuing them.
She lives happily-ever-after with her very own hero and princess-in-training in the wilds of Australia, where she can often be found drinking tea or curled up with a good book.
Escape the ordinary at
The Marriage Claim
Evie Mitchell
Prologue
Katherine
Astipia Kingdom
King's Bedchamber, The Royal Palace
I sat by my father's bed, watching as his breathing laboured, the soft beeping of the heart monitor becoming an uneven rhythm.
I could no longer deny reality, no longer hide behind hope and determined, wilful ignorance— my father was dying.
On the other side of the bed sat my mother, my brother, and sister. Each stoic, alternating between watching my father and stealing stricken glances towards me. Around the bed stood a gathering of