After eleven hundred years, Liwet is forced to halt walking her own path. She has countless aspirations in her life. But becoming a demon queen? Underworld affairs never registered on her ambition’s Richter scale. Political pawns close in around her, and Liwet must discern friend from foe. She has two days until her wedding, which will set her on a journey to the crown. If she can survive the assassination attempts long enough to say “I do.”
Excerpt (Rated PG: Obscene Language)
The roar of an engine thundered in my ears. Oriax peeled into the parking lot on a black and chrome Iron 883 Harley Davidson. Though I couldn’t see his gaze through his sunglasses, I knew his eyes blazed with rage. He reared to a halt six inches behind me.
“Baby, I told you that bike was too flashy,” I called over the rumbling.
“But I really wanted one,” Oriax responded in that deep, erotic timber meant only for me. “It’s a present to myself, and it purrs like a kitten.”
I laughed. “More like a lion.”
He waggled his brows. Nonchalant. Phony. “Just how you like ‘em then.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You’re early. I was really hoping to kill something. Do you know how hard it is to get Mastema to agree to let me out after curfew?”
He chuckled. “I am fully aware of your hardass sibling, especially when he’s under orders from me.”
“Brother, surely you can see the disrespect they extend us, by pretending we’re not here! The halfling needs to be taught her place in our world.” Leviathan paced around the muscle they brought.
Oriax pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, and leveled the demon with a deadly stare. “By all means, Leviathan. Do show my mate her place, as she shows you, yours.”
I cocked the shotgun and took aim without sparing a glance in Leviathan’s direction. When I heard the thud, I spared him a glance. Unlike humans, the demons didn’t recoil from the splattered grey matter. However, Gardon flinched as Leviathan’s body disappeared into thin air.
Oriax whistled. “Right between the eyes. Mad skills, sexy.”
“Gaap said we couldn’t die on earth,” Gardon said.
“He isn’t dead. If you take a mortal hit on mortal earth, your ass is grass. Demon boy got called home. Bet your handler didn’t tell you that, did he?”
“No. Definitely not.”
I leveled the gun on Gardon’s chest. “Why have you come here?”
“Gaap sent us.”
“Not good enough.” I fired into the air, and the demons scattered. I climbed onto the bike. “We need to draw them away from the Red Corkscrew. Now.”
“Right, boss.”
As Oriax gunned the engine and fishtailed, Gardon snarled.
Mastema watched through the front bay window. He lifted his hand in farewell, before he turned away.
I don’t think I’d ever seen him that pissed before. Must suck to be forced to disregard his king’s orders and be rendered unnecessary, all in the same day.
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