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

by Rebecca F. Kenney

“I deserve all your hate,” he said quietly. “Hate me with all the strength and passion of that beautiful fierce heart of yours. Crush me and break me if you must, in retribution for everything I have done, all the bodies I’ve broken, the blood I’ve spilled. Break my neck, Amarylla. End it, if that will bring you peace. You’ve wanted to kill me since that first night—so do it. Just a twitch of your fingers. Go on.”

“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.”

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.

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