Blood Claimed

 Book #1

Rowan Forge was my darkest dream come true, a beautiful king I’d worshipped my entire life. Until the fateful night I was forced to reject him, in order to save him. Now I’ve been dragged back to the Shadowsend Clan, surrounded by powerful enemies, a pawn in the High Council’s war with the Elders.

But this deadly world isn’t all bad, not when Darrow and Finn show me the depths of desire we can explore together, teach me the wicked games our kind loves.

So I’ll play the council’s game, show them I’m a queen, not a pawn, and when this war is over, I’ll have my king, my knights, and the love I deserve, and they’ll be nothing but ash.

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“Go back to the party, Darrow. Why are you even still here?” I put enough venom in my voice to make him leave. He had to leave. I couldn’t do this. Not now. Especially not with Dar, because he was my only lifeline and if this went wrong…I would have no one left.

For a second, the fire in his eyes died. “Maybe because I want to be, Aisling. Have you ever considered that?” My swallow was audible. No, I actually hadn’t. I was so used to everyone having ulterior motives for everything, suspicion was second nature.

“Now stop being stubborn and scoot over.”

He pulled his tie off, and loosened his collar, settling carefully into the cramped space I made on the decidedly too-small sofa. Then Darrow, my best friend who I’d known my entire life, reached over and ran his thumb over my bottom lip, so tenderly I froze.

I couldn’t do anything except marvel at the fact that Darrow Kane was touching me. And that one, simple fact swept away the humiliation and embarrassment to reveal the ravenous hunger lurking underneath. My heart raced when he leaned back, that cool smile on his face.

Without breaking our stare, he popped one button, then the next, baring inch after inch of pale, muscled flesh, his corded neck tensing with every small movement, the soft hiss of fabric replaced by the rushing blood in his veins as he moved closer, shucking off his jacket, his shirt undone to his navel.

Gods, he smelled positively sinful.

I wanted to taste him. I wanted to strip all those clothes off and run my hands over every inch of him, but he was only doing me a favor, I told myself, and I’d be a fool to make more of this than what it was.

I pressed my nose to Darrow’s throat, breathing in his ice-dusted pine scent, tracing my lips along the thick vein that ran the length of his neck, following the blood that pulsed beneath the tip of my tongue.

Bloody hell, Aisling.” Dar groaned.

I liked that sound. I liked that a lot.