The nail cut deeper. Blood beaded, then spilled down my front, over my breasts. I choked on a whimper.
“Now tell me everything.”
Few knew Valissa’s secret but it already carried a death toll. One.
If the Gods ever discovered what she was, they would capture and flay her alive.
But in the land of Gods and Monsters, no secret stays hidden for long.
Lissa—drunk on the high of a midnight party that’s rife with mysterious pirates—gets too close to one of the pirates, who turns out to have secrets of his own.
Jasper is no pirate. He is a servent of the Gods. And the moment she touches him, she steals his power.
He kidnaps Lissa, and he’s taking her to one of the most brutal Gods in all the lands … He’s taking her to Prince Poison.
Prince Poison’s mere touch kills and his cruelty is said to stretch beyond even the darkest pits of Lissa’s soul. But when she’s standing in front of this fearsome God, ready to face her gruesome fate, the Prince might see more in her than she ever thought possible.
What could possibly be worse than dying at the hands of an evil God?
Becoming his obsession…
Gods and Monsters will be six books that are novella-length.
Nails cutting into the velveteen settee, I held my breath and turned to stone.
I am in the presence of a God.
A God’s back faced me.
I stared at it, waiting for that deadly moment to come when he would turn to look at me—and flood my body with lethal poison.
Is that how he’ll do it?
A signature of sorts—his eternal mark on my body.
The stories told that his poison left a body in black and blue hues, rotten and battered before it took its last breath.
The thought made my toes curl in my boots, and I had a stomach-churning urge to use the chamber pot. Not that there was one in sight, or that I could do such a vilas thing in front any God, let alone this one.
Mind, I doubt he would notice since he hadn’t given me any notice at all. I was a mere stain on a freshly upholstered settee to be overlooked until removed.
Shivers had their hooks in me. It wasn’t the cold, either. Not with the blazing flames on the opposite side of the cosy room, roasting my pale skin.
Anxiety slashed through me.
The silence was suffocating. I squirmed on the plush couch, keeping my knees squeezed together, and my back curved in a cowardly bow.
Distantly, I wondered if this was the seizing terror felt by those who faced death’s stand, staring down their executioners.
Please—
I almost choked out words that needed to stay trapped.
Please, spare me. Show mercy that you don’t possess.
Before I could betray myself with such a fierce error as speaking to a God, Prince Poison moved. He captured my whole being with such an ordinary thing.
The Prince lifted the crystal tumbler to his lips. I heard the quiet sip of blood … then I felt it.
A thrum pulsed through my veins. I shut my eyes against a dizzying wave that rushed my head. It was almost as though he was drinking my blood.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I cut my gaze to the angry red gash on my wrist. The handkerchief must have fallen off when Jasper hauled me into the room like a sack of grain.
Slowly, I touched my eyes back to the glass loose in the God’s grip.
It was my blood.
And he drank it, savoured it, like a fine wine.
Why?
But Gods were the ones to ask questions—not us. Never the vilas; mere mortal humans made out of boredom long ago and yet to be destroyed.
After a long while, the Prince tossed the tumbler into the fire.
I flinched at the shattering sound of crystal exploding, then cringed in on myself.
Flames blazed in raging reds and blistering blues.
My veins turned to ice.
Prince Poison didn’t bother to look at me, but his voice was enough to bolt me in place.
“So you are the one who stole my aniel’s power.”
Beneath the frost of his tone were waves of tedious curiosity and ancient licks of otherworldly accents. It was as though he could see me in the flames that still danced blue and red.
I opened my mouth, an answer choking in my throat, my tongue unmoving.
But the Prince cut me off before I could stutter out some pathetic string of nonsense. “It is not a question. You took from my aniel. Power that does not belong to you. When you take from mine, you take from me.”
If it was possible, I curled in on myself even more.
And the Prince finally turned to look at me.
My stomach flipped at the sight of him.
Nothing like I expected.
Prince Poison smiled—all sharp teeth and lips stained with my blood, like he was ready to take a bite out of me, or anyone for that matter.
Silver threads of hair hung over his forehead, absolutely nothing like my own. My hair looked ashen and cloudy compared to his, which wore an unearthly shine, as if every strand was powered by pure magic. Even his skin glowed fiercer than any aniels’, as if personally kissed by the sun.
From the front, his scarlet military coat gleamed brighter with its silver fallen-star threads and crystallised buttons undone. The black silky shirt he wore under his coat was completely unbuttoned, dishevelled as though he’d spent a year in fights and all-too-private embraces before cursing me with his presence.
Imposing, he stood tall even with his lazy posture.
I fought against my wandering gaze. Too hard it tried to drop to the slice of his bare, muscular chest that seemed to glisten under the glow of the lanterns and fireplace.
But what stole my breath were his eyes.
Moons.
Two shining moons, paler than the threads woven through his scarlet coat, gleamed at me without a shred of kindness. They captured me with a glittering intrigue more dangerous than anything I could have ever imagined.
The Prince’s smile faded to a smirk, and my bones ached with the chill of dread. It looked wrong. Alien. As though it was painted on a perfect sculpture made from broken dreams and bleeding hearts.
He was both beauty and deadly sin.
My graze dropped to the floor, and I lowered my head in as much of a bow as I could manage, all bent on the settee.
Really, I should have thrown myself at his sharp-toed boots, but I got the feeling he wouldn’t like it if I moved from where I was dumped.
He had me where he wanted me.
My shoulders rattled in sync with my quivering lips.
“You cower like a vilas,” he drawled. The icy burn of his eyes coated my shivering back. “You look just as a vilas does,” he added. “Your pale skin is dull, your hair and eyes are lifeless. And yet, you do not taste like a vilas.”
The rich carpet threads held my gaze, but a frown buttoned between my eyebrows.
Taste—he must have meant my blood. A taste he liked so little, he threw it into the wall-sized fireplace.
I should have been relieved some. At least he wouldn’t drain me dry for my flavour. But my face turned hard and, honestly, I was a stab insulted.
Guess it’s true when they say we all seek the approval of our Gods.
Even lost in a fog of fear, tasting early death and suffering, who doesn’t want their God to like them?
Prince Poison took a step toward me. The soft sound of his silver boot on the plush rug sent a chill up my spine.
“You are not a God,” he said. “Not an aniel. Yet, you stole power. My power.”
He drew nearer, silver boots winking like blades ready to cut me down, crushing the rug my gaze clung to.
My hands bunched fistfuls of my skirt that punched the air with sea salt and blood. One wrong word—hell, one wrong sound or breath or look—and my head would roll across the rug, severed.
A God’s unwilling sacrifice.
“How did you do it?” he demanded, voice sharper than a pirate’s sword.
It took my fingernails tearing into the flesh of my palms for me to lift my gaze to his. Instantly, I was sorry I did.
Moons no more, his eyes raged like waves battering cliffs, and I knew I was staring into the endless dangerous pits of a Malis. A God to fear above all others—a God who only brought destruction and fed off the terror and souls of humans.
This broad-shouldered, stony-faced, blazing-eyed God couldn’t be further from a Beniyn if we wore the bones of the dead.
Of course, I always knew Prince Poison was a cruel, malevolent God. But that spark of hope that foolishly lingered inside of me was thwarted faster than I could take in a sharp breath.
“I …” My teeth bit down on my lip hard enough to draw beads of blood.
It wasn’t my words that failed me. It was my courage. Somewhere back on the ship, it took sail on the winds and left me behind to fend for myself.
Malis were the most unforgiving and vicious. They created so much death that there were isles and villages lost to the memories of them. So when they created life, like Jasper—his aniel—it was more precious than the stardust walls caging me in.
Finally, I managed a deep, rattling breath and felt the heat of tears on my cheeks.
“I … don’t kn-n-ow.” I shuddered my words. “It … happened. I do-n’t know h-h-how.”
The Prince studied me for a long moment, and I heard every click of a giant, tall clock by the wall.
Click.
Click.
Click.
His hand reached out slowly. So slowly that it seemed he savoured the rise of my fear with every click of the clock.
He’s enjoying this.
His gloved hand came so close that I quickly caught scent of the fresh leather wrapped around his fingers. Silver winked at me from his fingertips—razor sharp nails, pinned into the gloves, like fingertips.
I wondered if they wore the poison he was so feared for. Or were they ordinary weapons to him, and he saved death by a single touch for his especially loathed enemies?
After all, to him I was just a village thief, an avsky to be destroyed.
A shaky breath hitched in my throat as his fingertips reached my chin.
Surprisingly, his touch was gentle. Then he dragged the tip of a silver nail along my skin.
The ferocity of his eyes kept my gaze locked and my body stiff. The nail lowered—down my pulsing throat, slower than the clock’s ticking.
“I can tear your throat out right here,” he said, his voice a hushed whisper of threats and spilled blood. “I could kill you a thousand different ways where you sit.”
The nail cut deeper. Blood beaded, then spilled down my front, over my breasts.
I choked on a whimper.
“Now tell me everything.”
💕 Always double-check the price 💕
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No, no, no!
Prince Poison couldn’t kiss me. He was poison. If his lips touched mine, I’d be done for. Dead. In seconds. With a frightened sound, I jerked back, out of his hold. Fury lit up his frosty eyes for a beat. But then I blinked, and he was as composed as the stony-faced portrait on the wall. “Another time,” the Prince promised with as much poison as what stained his touch. Valissa is an abomination among Gods and Monsters. She's cursed with the unexplained ability to steal power from the children of the Gods. It's a curse worthy of death, but her fate is much worse than that. Prince Poison, the cruelest of them all, keeps her captive in the stardust palace, where she's forced to train her abilities into something that terrifies her, while evading the malicious interest of those around her. What's worse than holding the interest of a God whose touch kills and whose lips enchant? Becoming his captive... Gods and Monsters will be six books that are novella-length. 1. Prince Poison 2. Captive 3. Phantom 4. Syphoner 5. Gods 6. Monsters
Prince flickered his gaze down at my lips.
Please kiss me. Please don’t kiss me. I couldn’t make my own mind up. But even in my frazzled fright, I was too aware of the sick still coating my tongue. I bet Gods were never ill. No, no, no. Prince Poison couldn’t kiss me. He was poison. If his lips touched mine, I’d be done for. Dead. In seconds. With a frightened sound, I jerked back, out of his hold. Fury lit up his frosty eyes for a beat. But then I blinked, and he was as composed as the stony-faced portrait on the wall. “Another time,” the Prince promised with as much poison as what stained his touch. |
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“This is what you've always wanted.” The Prince’s voice was smoother than velvet sheets gliding over tangled bodies. “You've dreamt about this moment since the day of her betrayal.”
“No,” I breathed. “This isn’t what I want—” The Prince’s mouth turned into a frown. He gripped my face so hard that my lips were pushed out, and pain nipped at my jaw. “You dare lie to me?” His voice was all hushed promises of pain and fury. “I have seen your secrets, Valissa. Tasted them in your blood. I have seen what you try so pathetically to lock away, but you can’t hide your true self from me.” Total authority dripped from his fierce gaze. “I am your God.”
💕 To be released November 1 💕
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She is the writer, Isla Jones. Isla uses the pen-name Klarissa for fantasy, while using Isla Jones for her darker, grittier horror works to help separate the styles and genres for her readers.
To contact Klarissa King, find her here: https://www.facebook.com/Klarissa-King-1005484536303985/?modal=admin_todo_tour
For Isla Jones' author page, click here: https://www.amazon.com/Isla-Jones/e/B07856GGDF
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Love all the covers!
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ReplyDeleteSounds great.
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