Throne of the Fallen (Prince of Sin, #1)

by Kerri Maniscalco

Gentlemen of virtue are not nearly as nice As the wickedly sinful men of vice.

When the time came, Envy would play the game. He’d reclaim what was his, restore his court, and he’d never endanger his circle by becoming intrigued by a mortal again.

He wasn’t simply handsome, he was striking, his face a study of fine contradictions that made her fingers twitch with the urge to paint the hard, chiseled angles of his face, the soft curves of his lips, and those jewel-toned eyes that stood out against his bronze skin, forever capturing that devilish glint on canvas.

Whether due to hubris or ego, man was the only creature who often ignored what no other prey did: trust your instincts or suffer the consequences.

“Do you always lay claim to things that don’t belong to you, Vexley?” Camilla’s lips parted in shock. Did Synton sound… jealous?

“Death isn’t in my plan, pet.” A beat of silence passed. “Do not call me pet.” “Noted, kitten.”

If Camilla was sunshine, he was the darkest of nights. And if she wasn’t careful, his shadows would snuff out her light, if only for the fleeting chance to possess her warmth before destroying it.

Nature was a violent mistress, her beauty a mask to hide her cruelty.

“Touch her”—his voice was laced with malice, even as it faded to a mere whisper—“and I’ll annihilate you all.”

Camilla felt as if she were falling, plummeting from the heavens to the earth, and he was the star she clung to, their desire lighting the whole damn sky. Or maybe they were a comet, destined to crash.

“You have no morals.” “True. But yours are as gray in tone as mine, my dear.”

“Sweet deviant. You like me bowing before you?”

Sometimes two people weren’t meant to be more than one moment. Wondrous and unforgettable though it might be, not all good things were meant to last.