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

by Rebecca F. Kenney

“You were about to murder his only son. A small lie seems far more reasonable, don’t you think?” “I—” “Come, wife, help a husband out.”

“You stabbed me.” “Only a little. Don’t be a baby about it.”

“Sounds? Like me screaming for mercy while you plow into me?” “Devil’s bones, no! What is wrong with you?” I shrugged. “Those seem like the most likely sounds for a woman forced into a marriage bed.” “No, you should make sounds of pleasure.” “Because you are so damn charming that I fell for you in less than an hour? Won’t that seem a little—far-fetched?” “Women have fallen for me in less time. Men too. I am a prince. That makes me innately desirable.” My jaw dropped. “Men too?” “Would that displease you, if I’d been with men as well?”

My brain was still circling the phrase “hot little womb” and wondering if I was offended or aroused by it—but when he began listing the things I might want, I stiffened. “How about a training space and some equipment for exercising?” I asked. He quirked an eyebrow. “You want to exercise?” “I enjoy it. It calms me. When I don’t burn enough energy I get a bit savage.” “More savage than last night?” “Much more.”

I bit my lips, fighting against the sound that wanted to escape me, because the friction felt good. It was all I could do not to writhe wildly against him. “Let it out,” he whispered. “Open your mouth.”

“You’re a naughty little Princess at heart, aren’t you?” he said softly. Flushed and confused, with a strange liquid heat flaring at my core, I lurched off his lap and stumbled away from him.

“Keep smiling at everyone,” the Prince murmured. “I know looking pleasant is a terrible chore for you, but you must make a greater effort. To be honest, you look rather ill.” “I feel rather ill,” I whispered back. “Nerves.” He nodded so companionably that I wanted to smack him and remind him that we were not friends. “I sometimes have them before a battle.” “You mean you get nervous before you go out to slaughter people and steal their land?” I said sweetly. “You poor darling.”

“My life is far less simple and barbaric than you believe, Princess.”

“You disgust me.” “Tell me, do you often cuddle all night with people who disgust you?”

“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. After what he did to you, I actually made three different plans to kill him—if we could somehow eliminate the sorcerers who test his food and drink, check his rooms, examine his clothes, and scrutinize anyone who approaches him.” After what he did to you, I made plans to kill him… There was something wickedly sweet in the Prince’s speech, a dark, murderous romance in his tone that heated my core. But I couldn’t let myself be distracted by that traitorous heat. We needed a practical plan. “So magic is the thing that’s

“It’s all right,” he said. “We can be allies who occasionally pleasure each other. No need to reciprocate my feelings.”

“Do you need something?”

“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’m not dead yet, Amarylla,”

“And those closer to the grave deserve love just as much as those with years of life left ahead of them.” He patted my hand. “I will do what I can for him, but you should rest, Your Highness. You look exhausted.”

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.” “Not a very prepossessing list of qualifications,” I murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek as he bent toward me.

My father had promised that I’d marry my heart’s choice. That promise was twisted, and yet in some perverted, perfect way, it held true. My devil, my fiend, the Crown Prince of Terelaus. My husband. My choice.