RedCheryl

{WARNING: THIS BOOK IS HIGHLY SMUTTY}

"Run, little bird."

His voice is a whisper of sin and smoke, curling around my body like chains I cannot break.

I should run. I should fight.

But I don’t.

Because he’s already caught me.

A rough hand grips my throat, tilting my chin up—forcing me to meet his eyes. Red. Burning. Ravenous.

"You can try to escape, little wife," he murmurs, his breath hot against my lips. "But we both know how this ends."

I am his.

Bound to the Devil. Trapped in his Hell.

Luciel—King of the Underworld. Predator in human skin. A monster with a smile that undoes me, ruins me, devours me.

Every whisper is a command.
Every touch is a punishment.
Every kiss is a slow death.

And the worst part?

I want more.

His fingers trail down my spine, lower, lower—until I’m arching, trembling, drowning.

"Look at you," he taunts, lips ghosting over my pulse. "So desperate for the monster you fear."

I should hate him.

I should fight harder.

But then his lips brush my ear, and he chuckles—low, dark, merciless, making me give in to his darkhold.

"Good girl."

Bound to the Devil: In His Hell

A cold wind swept through the grand hall, carrying an unnatural stillness, a silence that made the guards shift uncomfortably.

Queen Naomi straightened on her throne, fingers pressing into the carved armrests. Something was wrong.

He moved without sound, without effort, yet every step he took commanded the space around him. The air thickened, heavy with something unseen, something divine.

Golden hair, streaked with pale starlight, flowed down his back, and his golden eyes—no, not gold, something brighter, something otherworldly—pierced through the room like a blade through silk.

He was beautiful. Unreachable. Cold.

The moment those celestial eyes landed on her, Naomi knew she was in trouble.

He came to a slow halt before her throne, hands clasped behind his back, the very image of patience.

Run!