He is my ruin.
My complete and utter devastation.
Loyalty or death.
And at his mercy.
A man who demands that I take it all—and submit.
I make my choice in a palace of flames,
and awake to total darkness . . .
Calloused hands bring hell to my door and
his velvet voice spews only poison.
“A traitor to the queen,” he calls me, and
though I don’t know his name, it’s clear that he’s no Prince Charming.
But no one would ever mistake me for a
damsel in distress.
He wants me on my knees, but it won’t be
me who breaks.
Only, falling for the most hated man in
England was not the plan.
If war is hell, then love is carnage, and
the blood that’s spilled will belong to us both.