The Wraith King (The Rise of Northgall, #1)

by Juliette Cross

He was breathtakingly and unaccountably beautiful.

“You will not be my concubine.” He tilted his head, watching me intently. “You will be the mother of my heir.”

“Firstborn? Are you expecting more than one child from me?” One shoulder lifted in a casual shrug, which was not disarming in the least. “You may enjoy my company in your bed and decide to give me more.”

“This news will be spread everywhere. If they think me monstrous, so be it. But all will know the consequences to anyone who dares touch what is mine. That goes for my land, my property, and you.”

I wondered if the gods blessed me or hated me by giving me this feisty harpy of a moon fae. For the way I wanted her was frightening, humiliating, and all-consuming. While she despised me. As she should. She would hate me more after the Rite of Servium.

War was the true villain, the real enemy. And one I was able to defeat by giving myself, my life, to the wraith king.

In all my recent dreams and fantasies of this woman, I never thought that I’d yearn for more than her body, the child she’d bear me, and her royal alliance. But now—against my will—there was a small coal of my own, smoldering in the dark recesses of my blackened heart, longing to be ignited. To burn hot and bright.

She stared again. I let her. I drank it in, relishing her intense scrutiny and obvious fascination. Whatever means I could employ so that I might ensnare her, I would. For the gods knew, she’d caught and caged my very soul.

How could my heart long for both the tyrant of Northgall and the young prince who’d saved me? Perhaps it was because his dominance wasn’t a barbaric whip. It was a seductive promise of protection and devotion that was as hard and impenetrable as the obsidian walls of Vixet Krone. He was my fortress, and I wanted his promise that he would always be so.

“I swear upon Vix himself, I will keep only one mate—my mizrah. For as long as I draw breath, there will only be you.” He held me tighter, eyes slipping closed as he whispered, “Only you.”

“I’m angry at you,” I hissed though my words had less weight after the heady orgasm he’d just given me. “I know, my sweet.” His voice was low and husky, his eyes slits of silvery blue. “And I’m going to fuck it right out of you.”

“You’d defy your god?” she asked, quirking her brow. “You’ve defied yours.” I cupped her jaw and brushed my thumb along the lovely slant of her cheek. “You defied Lumera, coming to Northgall to be my mizrah. And I am not a king with vengeance bearing down on my heart.”

He was afraid. He should be. My king wore nothing but death in every hard line of his face.