Brimstone Prince
A match made in hell… The adopted daughter of the daemon king, Lily Santiago has lived her life in darkness. After one glimpse of desert sunlight, she begins to understand what she's been missing.Michael D'Arcy Turov might be heir to the throne of hell, but he has firmly rejected that legacy. All he wants is to play his guitar… Until he meets Lily, and her kiss awakens the Brimstone burn he's long suppressed. A pawn in the war between her foster father and rogue daemons, Lily is determined to let Michael keep his freedom. But what if his desire for her is enough to take him back to hell?
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A match made in hell
The adopted daughter of the daemon king, Lily Santiago has lived her life in darkness. After one glimpse of desert sunlight, she begins to understand what sheâs been missing.
Michael DâArcy Turov might be heir to the throne of hell, but he has firmly rejected that legacy. All he wants is to play his guitar... Until he meets Lily, and her kiss awakens the Brimstone burn heâs long suppressed. A pawn in the war between her foster father and rogue daemons, Lily is determined to let Michael keep his freedom. But what if his desire for her is enough to take him back to hell?
He wasnât meant for her.
He was meant for the throne. And the daemon king expected her to help him force Michael to accept it.
His lips were full and warm against hers. Lily didnât reject the intimacy of his moist, hot tongue. She opened for him. She eagerly met his tongue with flicks of her own. She pressed into his muscular body and his arms fell from her face to her back where they smoothed and molded her curves to fit him. She had been forced to take haven in hell, but she tasted heaven on Michaelâs lips. It was a paradise flavored with salty tears.
Her father had made a deal with the daemon king to protect her eighteen years ago and now Lily knew what price she would have to pay for his protection.
BARBARA J. HANCOCK lives in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains where her daily walk takes her to the edge of the wilderness and back again. When Barbara isnât writing modern gothic romance that embraces the shadows with a unique blend of heat and heart, she can be found wrangling twin boys and spoiling her pets.
For Sam, Daisy, Brownie, Betsy and Punk...
the rescued dogs who have rescued me.
Contents
He was dying. The blade his former partner, Reynard, had plunged into his back had failed to kill him immediately, but the blow would be fatal all the same. Samuel Santiago could taste sulfur in the back of his parched throat. When he coughed up blood, it was tinged with black. He could feel the burn as the taint from the daemon blade Reynard had used spread its way through his veins.
Daemons werenât damned. But just like men, they could choose evil paths.
The cab dropped him at a familiar corner in Santa Fe. He was able to walk slowly but surely to the address of the apartment building where his young daughter would be sound asleep. He had a job to do. His Latin-scribed blade was wrapped in burlap and hidden beneath his coat. It and secrecy would be the gifts heâd leave Lily and her mother, Sophia. Heâd been wise to forge a deal that would protect her and her mother from Reynardâs treachery, even if he hadnât been able to protect himself.
It took forever for the elevator to respond to the summons of the glowing button that wavered in and out of focus as he waited. The Rogue daemons Reynard had sold his soul to were blackened by the desire to rule the hell dimension and then conquer heaven. They wanted to reclaim the paradise Lucifer had rebelliously left. Hell was embroiled in revolution. Loyalists against Rogues. But the Rogues couldnât be stopped by Luciferâs Army alone. At one time, Samuel had hunted all daemons, but heâd learned that Loyalists had no quarrel with humans. It was the Rogues who desired to enslave and destroy. The daemon king needed help from humans to defeat the Rogues. That fact might save Lilyâs life.
Rogues would hunt him down. He looked over his shoulder when a random noise from a nearby apartment made him feel as if they were already behind him preparing to pounce.
The hall was empty. Somewhere in the distance a small dog barked.
Samuel stumbled into the elevator. He jabbed at the button to close the door as if the hounds of hell snapped at his feet. In a way, they did. He didnât sigh in relief when the door closed. He leaned against the elevatorâs humming wall, tense and watchful, as it rose up to the tallest floor. It was almost midnight. They would be sleeping. He didnât have much time. He couldnât see them. He couldnât say goodbye. He couldnât risk staying longer than it would take to place the wrapped sword on the mantel.
Lily had his blood. For better or worse. He supposed that was a gift he would leave her, too, although it often seemed a curse. His affinity for daemons had led him to join with Reynard in hunting them. It was Reynardâs joy in the hunt, his increased ruthlessness, that had led Samuel to question his gift. He was drawn to daemons and they were drawn to him, but in the end he had decided he was supposed to be the bridge between humanity and daemons, not their executioner.
