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Dancing with the Devil
Di R.K. Ryals
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggere- Editore:
- R.K. Ryals
- Pubblicato:
- Jun 3, 2015
- ISBN:
- 9781310313288
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
***Due to language, violence, and sexual content, this book is suggested for older readers***
Falling ash. Subservient Hellhounds. Dark mirrors and ticking clocks. Such is the life of a daughter of Hecate living in Hell...
Monroe Jacobs isn't your typical witch. She is strong, her powers growing with each passing day. They are powers that beckon, powers coveted by many, including the man she loves.
Luther Craig is a remorseless Demon ruler in Hell. Governing a kingdom once presided over by his mother, the she-demon Lilith, Luther has everything he's ever wanted. Power. But his kingdom is at risk, his newfound strength a challenge to the Princes of Hell.
Theirs is a strange relationship, the witch and the Demon, full of passion and need. It's a relationship that will be tested by the worst kind of obstacles--pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth.
For in the ash-filled shadows of Hell, the Princes are preparing for war. Luther isn't the only one who wants power and a blonde-haired witch. He'll have to face the Seven Deadly Sins to keep both.
Informazioni sul libro
Dancing with the Devil
Di R.K. Ryals
Descrizione
***Due to language, violence, and sexual content, this book is suggested for older readers***
Falling ash. Subservient Hellhounds. Dark mirrors and ticking clocks. Such is the life of a daughter of Hecate living in Hell...
Monroe Jacobs isn't your typical witch. She is strong, her powers growing with each passing day. They are powers that beckon, powers coveted by many, including the man she loves.
Luther Craig is a remorseless Demon ruler in Hell. Governing a kingdom once presided over by his mother, the she-demon Lilith, Luther has everything he's ever wanted. Power. But his kingdom is at risk, his newfound strength a challenge to the Princes of Hell.
Theirs is a strange relationship, the witch and the Demon, full of passion and need. It's a relationship that will be tested by the worst kind of obstacles--pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth.
For in the ash-filled shadows of Hell, the Princes are preparing for war. Luther isn't the only one who wants power and a blonde-haired witch. He'll have to face the Seven Deadly Sins to keep both.
- Editore:
- R.K. Ryals
- Pubblicato:
- Jun 3, 2015
- ISBN:
- 9781310313288
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Correlati a Dancing with the Devil
Anteprima del libro
Dancing with the Devil - R.K. Ryals
Dancing with the Devil
By R.K. Ryals
Copyright © 2014 Regina K. Ryals
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
There are so many people that I want to thank for being a part of this book. It’s so very sad saying goodbye to a series, and yet it fills me with pride to see how far these characters have come. I’m even prouder of the people who helped make this series a reality.
Thank you to my husband, who brought me butterscotch milkshakes and macaroni and cheese while I was stressing over deadlines and getting lost in this strange world. To my children, who readily accept the fact that Mom constantly talks to herself and doesn’t think it’s insane. To my best friend, Audrey Welch, who is one of my staunchest supporters and the photographer involved with this cover. You are beautiful and amazing, and you constantly inspire me every day with your brilliance. To my sisters, I love you more than words can say. I blame my insanity on both of you. To my personal assistant, Christina Silcox, because you shoulder my stress with a calm demeanor that would impress saints. I could not do this without you. You are an amazing friend, loyal, beautiful, kind, and one of the hardest workers I know. There is never a shortage of laughter and deadline fears between us. To my editor, Melissa Ringsted. You are one of the strongest, most caring people I know. Life is often a dark hole that tries to eat us alive. You brave that hole every day, and I find your courage blindingly beautiful. To Eden Crane, because you are one of the most brilliant and talented people I know. You gave the cover of this book life, and for that, I adore you. To Melissa Wright, because you give me wings and help me fly. Also, because I just couldn’t survive without your random horse selfies and LOLA’s in my text inbox. You are a brilliant light and such a talented woman. To Eric Carpenter and Kayla Purvis because having you on this cover as Luther and Monroe makes it even more special. Both of you are such beautiful people inside and out. To Whitney Deboe, because you are more than just a friend and a fellow writer, you have become a partner in this crazy literary world. To Bree High, because together we can be waverly,
and all friendships should be based on that. To Elizabeth Kirke, simply because I adore you. To Ashley Morgan and Alicia Lane Kirke, because you’ve brightened my world with your spirits and with the gifts you sent me while writing this book. You humble me. I love you. To everyone who supports me every day; you are all brilliant. To Jessica Johnson, Lisa Markson, Nanette Bradford, Katherine Eccleston, Ashley Ubinger, Beth Maddox, Vicky Walters, Katy Austin, Amy McCool, Julia Roop, Pyxi Rose, Alexis O’Shell, Anne Nelson, Jessie de Schepper, Derinda Love, Jodi O’Brien, Merisha Abbott, Tina Donnelly, and so many, many more. All of you truly inspire me! And to the fans: you make every day worth it. Your words and your kindness mean so much. I can’t thank you enough for reading. It truly means the world. Sharing the love of reading one book at a time! From my heart to yours!
Prologue
A few weeks before …
The amber liquid swirled inside the glass, the fingers holding it long and unblemished.
You called, brother?
a voice asked. Amos looked up, his dark eyes meeting Amon’s narrowed gaze before he placed the shot glass against his lips and turned it up. He enjoyed blood, but he enjoyed spirits even more. I had business on Earth, you know,
Amon added.
Amos smiled. It can wait. I need your help.
A gleam of interest entered Amon’s eyes. Does this have anything to do with Lilith’s son?
Amos’ brows rose. Maybe.
Amon stepped through the door of his brother’s office, a decadent room that belonged in the parlors of Victorian England rather than Hell, his gaze widening at the sight of five other men seated comfortably in overstuffed sofas. It wasn’t often the seven deadly sins congregated in one room.
Tell me, brother,
Amos asked. How do you feel about war?
Amon smiled, the slow grin revealing long, sharpened teeth. Amon was, after all, a Demon of Wrath.
The air was thick and dangerous, and Amos eyed each man separately. Their true demonic names weren’t important. What they represented was: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride.
Somewhere in a dark room in Hell, cozied up against the Demon Thorne, was a blonde-haired witch. She was thrashing in the sheets, her dreams plagued with an awful, devastating vision. It startled her awake, and she shot up, Luther’s narrowed eyes going to her face. Demons didn’t need to sleep. Luther simply watched her. She didn’t have to tell him what she’d seen. He’d seen it in her head, his lips thinning, anger marring his features.
Amos smiled. He wanted Luther’s kingdom, but most of all, he wanted the witch. He was, after all, the Demon of Lust.
Chapter 1
Luther was lust and danger and sin all rolled up into one hybrid Demon. My first few weeks in Hell were spent pressed against sheets and other surfaces, his flesh against my flesh, his muscles tensing beneath my fingertips, the feel of him exploring, learning, and memorizing. He filled me, stretched me, and completed me. He was Luther Craig, a ruler with few weaknesses, a ruler with insatiable appetites, and a ruler with one goal: be the most powerful Demon ruler in Hell. Being only half Demon wasn’t going to stop him. He scared me … but he also filled me with exhilaration.
~Monroe: A Book of Shadows~
Hands. Beautiful, amazing, and experienced hands. Hands often said things that words never could. They taught, they demonstrated, and they expressed. They could be as cruel as they could be gentle. They could be as full of hate as they could be full of love.
Luther Craig had beautiful hands.
Fingers skimmed skin, his palm sliding up the length of my bare leg until it cupped my hip, his slow, unhurried breath against my neck. His teeth scraped the sensitive skin below my ear, and I arched against him, a sigh escaping.
Come to me,
he breathed.
Luther was seldom gentle. There was too much of him for that—too much passion, too much need, and too much impatience. Love with Luther was something bigger than I’d ever felt. It was always like he was reaching for something, as if there was always a bigger release, a place no other two people had ever been, and he was determined to take me there.
My fingernails dug into his back, each of his thrusts met with clenched teeth and grating nails. It should have caused him pain, but that was something else about Luther. Blood for blood. I often drew his, and he repaid me by drinking mine. Blood made things more for him, too. It made him ravenous.
My eyes met his, my blue gaze locking with his glittering emerald one. There was no amusement there now, nothing but the dark, hungry red-hued green I’d grown used to.
Mine,
he said.
He owned my soul. Literally. It didn’t hurt that he also owned my heart. There was something desperately beautiful about Luther Craig. There was nothing weak about him. Even now, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, his shadowed face full of ecstasy, there was nothing weak. Only strength and pleasure. Strength and pleasure and something so indescribably Luther. There would never be a word strong enough to define him.
Mine,
he repeated.
There was nothing but sensation—beautiful, amazing sensation—that sent me soaring, the feel of him inside of me and against me both right and full.
I screamed, my head thrown back, my hand moving to the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his hair. It was like silk, his hair. Midnight silk.
One final thrust, and one final murmured, Mine!
It was like being inside of a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. Red silk, black hair, his skin against my skin, his legs tangled with mine, and his teeth grazing my flesh.
I didn’t have to fight to stay awake. I didn’t have to fight to feel alive. I was nothing but electricity and fire. I was being consumed by flames, and for once, I didn’t mind the blaze.
Luther’s gaze went to the ceiling of his dark, gothic home, to the vaulted depths of his roof, and he smiled, his teeth flashing.
There was no pretense in his grin. It was full of possession, his pupils darkening. It was a message, and we both knew it.
For weeks now, I’d been having vivid nightmares; awful, terrifying visions that plagued me. They were haunting images of death, bloodshed, and war sent to me by one of the dark princes of Hell. I’d seen his face in my sleep, his beautiful visage filling my mind. Amos, a Demon of lust. He was temptation and sin, but where it worked for Luther, this man’s dangerous beauty frightened me.
Luther didn’t leave me, his body still joined with mine, his gaze on something I couldn’t see, his hand on my hip tightening.
He said something then, in a language I doubted I would ever understand. It was a terrible tongue, the vernacular of Demons. There was a threat in his words, a threat that sent shivers down my spine.
And you think that’s necessary?
I asked, my brows arching.
Luther’s gaze slid to my face, his pupils bleeding back to normal, a smirk touching his lips.
Feel free to complain,
he answered.
Sliding free, he rolled off of me, and I chuckled. You are nothing if not cocky.
I realized my mistake before he winked, my hands gripping the crimson, silk sheets on his bed against my chest. Oh no!
I teased. "That was not an invitation. It was meant to be an insult."
There was no modesty with Luther. He was everything a woman shouldn’t want in a man, everything a girl should steer clear of, but his darkness spoke to me.
I don’t know,
he said, his long length rising from the bed, "I kind
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