_Hellion

Excerpts~

Her blood is a curse—a sweet, deadly curse that I can’t stop tasting. It coats my tongue, warm and heady, like it was made to undo me. I hate her for how good it feels. Hate myself more for not stopping.

She doesn’t pull away. No, she’s watching me, her lips curving like she’s already won. Her pulse pounds against my mouth, steady and unafraid, and it makes me want to devour her whole.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asks, her voice soft, taunting.

I don’t answer. Can’t. My grip tightens around her wrist as I pull back, her blood still burning on my lips. She tilts her head, mockery gleaming in her eyes, and I know she’s baiting me.

“Does it bother you,” she whispers, “how easily I let you take it?”

The words cut deeper than they should. Before I can think, I shove her back against the wall, my body caging hers. Her smirk doesn’t falter. It dares me. Push harder.

“You really don’t know when to stop,” I growl, my voice rough, guttural.

“Neither do you,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping to my mouth.

And then I snap.

I crush my lips to hers, tasting blood and defiance and her. She gasps against me, her fingers curling into my shirt like she’s torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. Every ounce of self-control I had shatters as I press harder, deeper, desperate to consume her completely.

She shouldn’t feel this good. Kissing her should be a mistake. But the way she responds—the way her mouth moves against mine—feels like I’ve just ignited something I’ll never be able to extinguish.
****
His kiss is fire. A raw, scorching blaze that steals the breath from my lungs and sets every nerve in my body alight. It’s unexpected, wild, and completely reckless—like him.

For a moment, I freeze, my hands against his chest, ready to push him away. I should stop this. I need to stop this. But the heat of his mouth, the way his hands grip my waist like he can’t let go, makes it impossible to move.

“Damn it, Killion,” I whisper against his lips, trying to muster the strength to pull back. But then he groans—low, desperate—and it unravels me.

He kisses me harder, deeper, and I’m drowning in him. My fingers curl into his shirt, dragging him closer, even as my mind screams at me to stop. This is dangerous. He’s dangerous. But right now, I don’t care.

His hands slide to my hips, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. I hate how good it feels. Hate how much I want him in this moment, even when I know it’s a bad idea.

When he finally pulls back, his breath ragged, his lips are swollen and red. His eyes lock on mine, dark and stormy, and I know we’ve just crossed a line we can never uncross.

“You really don’t know when to quit,” I say, my voice shaky, trying to sound composed.

His lips twitch, a shadow of his usual smirk. “Neither do you.”

*****
In a world where power is the only currency and betrayal is a shadow at every corner, the fae and the demon must navigate a dance of lies and desires, where every touch is a weapon and every secret could shatter their fragile alliance. But as their game of cat and mouse spirals into something more dangerous, they'll discover the line between love and hate is thinner than they ever imagined. And in the Undercity, where hearts burn and, passion can be the deadliest weapon of all. 

Will she find the truth she seeks, or will she be consumed by the very darkness she's trying to escape?

~Eclipsed~

The taste of her still lingers—blood, defiance, something dangerously close to temptation. I might have savored it longer, let it settle on my tongue like a favorite sin, but the universe seems determined to remind me that there are worse creatures in this world than me.

Not that I take pleasure in that fact.

And if my little lying Peaches hadn't slipped up—hadn't punched me in the godsdamned face—I might have been appropriately shocked for the third time today.

And now, that bitch has descended from her sky palace.

"You bastard!" Leonhart snarls, stepping forward like he's about to do something useful for once.

Meanwhile, Mel has effortlessly slid back into her role. Damsel in distress, all wide eyes and soft gasps, tilting her head just enough to display the fresh mark on her neck. A brand, really. A reminder.

For her? Perhaps. But mostly for me.

I hope it lasts longer than the last one.

When she killed her brother