A Cursed Heart (Myths of Airren, #2)

by Jenny Hickman

Women were pawns in a game of wealth and power. And yet without us, there would be no men.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” I choked, my voice not the only part of me trembling as panic seized my chest. “You swore on pain of death.” Fool. I’d forgotten myself and pushed him too far. His hair tickled my cheek as his nose grazed the column of my throat. “Ah, but I like pain and enjoy death.”

“And I swore not to lay a hand on you.” His fingers tapped the pillow beneath my head. His voice dropped to a whisper. “What you fail to realize, human, is that I do not need my hands to make you come undone. I could use my mouth.” He pressed a kiss to my pulse. “My teeth.” He nipped my jaw. “My tongue.” Flames swirled over the spot where he’d bitten me. “My cock.” His hips rocked once. There was no mistaking what nudged against my thigh. “My magic.” The bonds around my wrists and hips squeezed. “I’d let you choose, Aveen. Choose how I unravel you.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you do. I am cold and dead inside, but when you touch me, something ignites, and I burn,” he confessed in a desperate whisper. “I burn for you just as you burn for me.”

I’d screamed, and the only person to come to my aid was my villain.

“You are my only weakness. And if the world found out, it would take you away.”

But a monster wasn’t born a monster. A monster was made.