Then the flood died off and the memories faded away like smoke. Only a few impressions remained, fragments from some of my lives, though I knew others were within my grasp if I needed them. Only one life remained just out of reach, clouded by another’s magic. My true self had been stolen from me, my powers stripped from my body, now returned in death. But I still couldn’t access those memories.
I sucked in a breath that felt like my very first one. Power swirled inside me like adrenaline. My skin tingled with magic. How was this possible?
Lucifer had killed me, but somehow I was alive.
No, better than alive. I was whole again.
But that didn’t mean I forgave him for what he’d done.
I opened my eyes and slowly sat up, glancing at the small crowd of people gathered around me, before my eyes landed on Lucifer. My mate. My killer. My savior.
“Hannah?” he whispered.
Hannah? Hannah was dead. But like a phoenix, I was reborn. I didn't remember my name, but I knew one thing.
It was time to raise some hell.
THANK YOU for reading Demon King! Lucifer and Hannah’s story will continue in Devilish Mate, coming soon. I promise a HEA for them…eventually!
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Also, check out my other series Seraphim Academy, which features some of the characters in Demon King. Turn the page to read the first chapter!
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Excerpt from Seraphim Academy 1: Wicked Wings - Excerpt
To find her brother, this succubus will tempt angels to fall…
Chapter One: Olivia
Seduction is a dangerous game, but one I have no choice but to play. And, as I’ve learned from my mother, seduction and deception often go hand in hand.
They do tonight, anyway.
I move through the party and try to ignore the growing hunger inside me. It's hard at times like this, when music is pulsing, drinks are flowing, and bodies are dancing a little too close. Inhibitions are down, temptation is in the air, and boy does it smell sweet. To me, at least.
I find a corner where I can survey the crowd, trying not to get too close to anyone. College kids at various levels of drunkenness dance, play beer pong, and try to talk over the loud beat of the music. A guy standing off to the side catches my eye and gives me a warm smile. He’s got the face and shoulders of a small-town college football hero, and for a second I’m tempted. I picture digging my nails into those broad shoulders as I ride him hard, but I quickly glance away. He looks like a nice guy. The kind who wants to take it slow and brings you flowers on your first date. The kind I avoid.
Trust me, I’m doing him a favor.
A guy with sleeve tats and a dark goatee walks into the room with a “don’t-fuck-with-me” vibe. I bet these rich snobs invite him to parties for one reason alone: he sells drugs. He’s exactly the kind of man I need tonight.
Chester’s hand clasps my elbow possessively. “There you are.”
“I was waiting for you.” I flash him a fake smile. He’s one of those kids who only got into USC because his parents bribed someone. Sandy blond hair with a perfect curl over his eye, dark green polo shirt, expensive smile—you know the type. His confidence makes him more attractive than he really is, as does his money. This is his house—bought by his parents so he wouldn’t have to live in a dorm with the common folk—and his party. It’s St Patrick’s Day, he’s wearing a “I’m Not Irish, Kiss Me Anyway” pin that lights up, and his breath smells like whiskey. It takes a good bit of acting not to cringe away from his touch, but Mother taught me well.
We met in the bar where I work, where he flirted with every girl he could before I took him home. Now he only has eyes for me. What can I say? I have that effect on people.
Chester pulls me up against him, his eyes hungry. “I missed you. Let’s go back to my bedroom.”
I play with the buttons on his shirt. “Only if I get a drink first. I’m dying for one of those green beers everyone’s got.”
He nuzzles the side of my neck like a ravenous bear. “Can’t it wait? I need you now.”
I might have gone a little too far with him last night. I swat his chest playfully and put on a cute pout. “Everyone’s had a drink but me. Please?”
He has no idea I’m doing him a favor. If we sleep together again, he won’t survive it. Humans can only handle one night with a succubus—or even a half succubus, like me.
“Fine,” he says, but he tightens his fingers around my arm. “One drink and then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”
His mouth crushes against mine, and I can’t help but take a little of what he’s offering. His lust for me is delicious, but every second our lips touch puts him in more danger. The guy is a possessive, snobbish jerk, but I don’t want him dead.
I push him away before I can do any real damage. “Go find me that green beer, and then we’ll continue this.”
His eyes are glazed and unfocused, his face a little paler than it was before, and at first I think he won’t let go. Did I take too much? But after a second the daze passes, and he stumbles off to go get me a drink.
I blow out
