Seducing The Dark Prince
Hell might be heavenly…for one of the Sisters in SinLucien Smok happens to be the crown prince of Hell, a legacy he despises. Theia Dawn tries to convince herself that she’s only interested in Lucien because of his family’s role in the persecution of her ancestors. Their mutual attraction might be her downfall – or his salvation.
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Hell might be heavenly...
...for one of the Sisters in Sin
Lucien Smok is heir to the Smok fortune. Heâs also the crown prince of Hell, a legacy he despises. Clairvoyant Theia Dawn tries to convince herself that sheâs only interested in Lucien because of his familyâs role in the persecution of her ancestor, not because heâs the most beguiling man sheâs ever met. The attraction that burns between them might be her downfall. Or it might be his salvation.
JANE KINDRED is the author of the Demons of Elysium series of M/M erotic fantasy romance, the Looking Glass Gods dark fantasy tetralogy and the gothic paranormal romance The Lost Coast. Jane spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.
Also by Jane Kindred
Waking the SerpentBewitching the DragonThe Dragonâs HuntSeducing the Dark Prince
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08204-4
SEDUCING THE DARK PRINCE
© 2018 Jane Kindred
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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Contents
Like the ethereal substance his last name evoked, Lucien Smok was breathtakingâliterally. The moment Theia saw him across the temple reception hall, the air rushed from her lungs as though it had been sucked into a vacuum. Pale blue eyes like pieces of ice locked on hers from beneath long lashes, dark brows in an ivory face lifted in amusement above them as if he was well aware of the effect he was having on her.
Sheâd seen him before somewhere. In a dream or a dark premonition. Beneath the reception hallâs Baroque quadratura-painted ceilingâinvoking the blessing of the gods of Olympusâhe reminded her of a painting by Waterhouse, Narcissus winking just for a moment at the viewer before returning to his reflection.
But beautiful or not, this wasnât some breathless lust at first sight. She really couldnât breathe.
Theia clutched at her throat and tried to make a sound, but nothing came out. Her lungs were locked in a spasm, convulsively trying to take in air against some obstruction.
Her dark-haired Narcissus crossed the reception hall in two swift strides and embraced her from behind, arms wrapped around her waist and hands clasped tight beneath her breasts, a gesture of intimacy. Vertigo swam over her, making her feel as though she were floating within herself, a lighter-than-air balloon encased in a human frame, bobbing against its edges.
He hugged her forcefully, jolting her against him, almost off the groundâonce, twice, thrice.
Another spasm of her diaphragm forced what remained of the air in her lungs through her windpipe and dislodged the champagne grape sheâd swallowed wrong. Such a small thing to cause so much trouble.
