About Kiss of Blood and Chaos

Imprisoned for crimes Sen can’t remember, he suffers starvation that will not kill him. After all, a Demon Prince cannot die. The only solace to his eternal suffering is the apparition of a beautiful human girl. Until Sen is set free by a monstrous Fae King.

Destitute of choice, Sen agrees to help the king save his dying kingdom. To do so, he must capture a menacing monarch on the run. But Sen doesn’t expect to cross paths with the ghost he saw in prison. Nor does he expect to learn she’s real, alive, and…doomed to death by Sen’s own disastrous kiss.

Find out just how far the Demon Prince will go to save the one he loves.

Read the thrilling prequel to Kiss of the Demon Prince now!

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Peek Inside Kiss of Blood and Chaos

Chapter 1

Darkness, thick and tangible, surrounds me when I wake, screaming. A bloody face lingers on the edge of my mind, quickly fading as consciousness snags my attention. I claw for that face with my thoughts, try to remember who he is…or was. All I can cling to is the name. Sen. I think that’s what he calls me, but maybe that’s what I call him? Any chance of retention slips from my thoughts like sand through the claws protruding from my fingers.

It’s always this way. I wake in dark and suffocating silence with only my own screams to accompany me. The phantom dreams that plague me when I try to rest tease me with secrets I can’t remember.

Looking up, I swallow hard against a scraping, clawing dryness in my throat. My stomach gnaws at me, and I wonder when food will come, but I hate the thought at the same time. Food is never a dead thing. It always comes into the darkness, shivering with terror so thick it burns my nose. Their blood…it smells so sweet coursing through their veins, riding the pulse of their roaring heart. And that glowing part in the center of their bodies—a part I shouldn’t be able to see—that tastes the best. Like melting chocolate over a decadent cake.

But I’ve never eaten cake… At least I can’t remember having any. So why would I compare it to that?

The question makes my head pound with a violent pain, and I scream again.

My voice is deep and foreign to me every time I hear it echo in the darkness. Chains rattle around my wrists, glittering faintly with a spell that drains my strength. Shackles also bind my ankles. All the spelled manacles keep me from going far in this stone prison.

Still, I dare to rise, dare to stretch the soreness out of my body that’s grown from not moving in…I don’t know how long. Time is impossible to track when surrounded by only gloom.

I stretch for the ceiling too high to reach, and bend to the side. No matter how much I move, the gnawing need inside me, begging for sustenance, doesn’t fade. It makes my insides feel hollow, vacant to the point of pain. Too often to count, I’ve expected death from starvation, but death never comes.

Stepping forward, a bone cracks under my foot, and I freeze, frowning. Bones have always been down here. Some before I came—maybe prisoners who passed in this cage before me—but not all the bones precede my time. That makes the deepest part of me sour in misery, while another part of me fills with glee.

Those deaths I caused. One was a man so young and fit. He fought me in a rage of desperate need to survive. It was fun, as much as I hate to admit that, letting him punch at me, drawing black, inky blood with a silver blade he bore. They—the prison guards—let him in with a knife. Must have thought it funny to give the man an illusion that he might survive me.

Too cruel, I think now. His body is now only bones. His soul burns in the Infernal Realms. And still, I’m stuck here, starving once more.

“Don’t give up,” a voice says to me from the darkness. Despite myself, I freeze and jolt to see who’s there.

I know it’s no one, just madness from hunger and loneliness playing with my mind. Even so, a figure is there. A girl with hair as black as night and eyes as blue as a sky. At least, I think they’re the same color. I haven’t seen the sky lately to know for sure.

Beautiful. I’ve always thought that about her. She’s a kind relief to the ever-present silence and turmoil of my imprisonment. Even though she isn’t real.

Those large, stunning eyes watch me as I sink back to the cold, wet ground. Something about how bright they are pulls at part of me, telling me I should surmise something from their color. But like many memories, I don’t remember.

The dank wall rests against my thin shirt, giving my broken mind something new to focus on. I don’t shiver. Cold never bothers me, only hunger does.

My gaze remains on the girl. Her figure is a ghostly silhouette in this deep darkness, but I see it with my keen eyesight. She visits off and on. First, I met her as a child, and now she’s a young woman. If I can believe her aging is true, it would prove I’ve been locked up in here for years.

“Back to torment me?” I ask her with a wry grin. She only cocks her head in a sly, attentive way. I don’t expect her to speak. She rarely does, which is why the words I did hear play in my head now. “Don’t give up.”

“What is there to live for?” I ask.

I receive no reply. Just more staring from that intoxicating gaze.

I must like solitude, if she’s a figment of my imagination. If I really wanted a conversation, wouldn’t I be able to make her talk?

Shivering with the dry hunger, I pry my gaze from her and grab a bone off the floor. It’s not sharp, so I snap it in half, making a razor edge appear. I slice the sharpness across my wrist, making black blood ooze and drip. Too quickly, the wound mends. I slice it again, and again, it heals.

“I can’t die,” I explain to the girl. “I’ve tried, many times. Even stabbed myself in the chest. All that does is hurt a lot. Even my heart mends.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” she says, and that voice, it’s sounds like the most gorgeous symphony. I wish she would talk more.

The beautiful ghost rises from where she sits and comes closer. Her hand rests on my cheek, a cold, barely-there touch. Then she kneels before me. Bones don’t move under her spectral form. Everything is silent, floating on the edge of my longing. Longing for her to be real, for my life to have meaning.

Her face levels with mine. Those full, lush lips draw my eyes. I want to kiss them, and not in the way I’ve done to the victims in this cell. I want her to know how much she means to me; how lonely I am without her.

But who am I to think anyone would want to kiss me—this unlovable monster that I am?

The whisper of a thumb brushes my cheek, taking away a tear I can’t hold back.

“Don’t go,” I tell her, because I know she will. She always does.

Her dark brows bend in sympathy, though no words come from her mouth. Then, as if heeding my deepest desire, she leans forward, and those ghostly lips gently caress mine. I expect her mouth to be an ethereal whisper, but it’s warm and very much alive. Hunger gnaws at my consciousness, but it’s different from my need to feed. It’s a desire urging me to deepen this kiss, to drown in her and know what she tastes like.

A clammer outside the stone walls hits my ears like a cacophony of screeches. It’s so loud after hearing nothing for an eternity that I jolt in surprise, clenching hands over my pointed ears.

The sound continues, but I don’t focus on it. I’m too busy searching the darkness for the girl.

She’s gone.

My cold, black heart sinks in sorrow at everything I’ve just missed.

Screams break through my efforts to block out all noise. Confused, I touch my mouth, but the cry isn’t from my lips. Odd, because the only screams for years have been mine.

The cell begins to shake. The bones surrounding me rattle. Small stones drip from the ceiling and clatter against the grimy floor.

A fresh scent fills the air, salty and damp. With it comes the effervescent smell of fear—sweet like honey and bitter like coffee. My starving body craves it, making me leap to my feet.

The chains binding me rattle, but I jump forward towards the smell, towards that fear. I have to devour it. I need it.

The shaking continues, followed by cracks that appear in the walls. More screams. Then an explosion.

Rocks cave in from above, coming to crush me. Even starved, I move fast, dodging every rock. They fall like a staircase, and I run up them as far as the chains will allow. Once I reach their limit, I’m pulled back like an anxious dog on a leash, jerked down to the rubble. I land hard, one wrist breaking as I try to stop my fall.

Seconds pass, and my wrist bone snaps back into place, rattling the shackles. Another second and it heals, but I don’t watch it. I’m too busy looking up. It’s dark, but not pitch black. There’re little beads of light, and even that small bit of light hurts my eyes. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anything other than my cell. Now I’m looking at…stars.

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