Bride to the Fiend Prince (Dark Rulers, #1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

When women brandish daggers at me I usually spill all my darkest secrets, but with you—” he shook his head— “I just don’t feel that trust that a husband should feel for his wife. Maybe if you climbed on top of me again—”

“If I had my choice of all the princesses, all the nobles, and all the working women of the world, I would still select you as my bride. I could not imagine being married to anyone else. I wouldn’t want anyone else. Just you—you brutal, beautiful, brilliant woman.”

warrior princesses didn’t cry when they made love to their fiendish princely husbands. But maybe they cried when the fiendish princely husband looked so heartbreakingly thin and pale. Maybe they cried when they could see Death slinking up behind him with a great scythe. Maybe then a warrior princess could cry, and rage, and catch Death by the wrists, and hold back that scythe with every ounce of will and strength she had.

“Wicked prince,” I said. “Cruel prince. You can’t make me love you and then leave me, just when we’ve started scheming for your freedom, and your future. It’s not right.”

I had taken Death by the wrists, and while trying to hold back his scythe from my love, I had impaled myself.

“I suppose you could fill the position of queen. As long as you accept the fact that I’m completely indecisive, insecure, unworthy, and embarrassingly desperate for your love.”