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Kissing Hellfire: Marry Me, Evil Lord

Power comes with a cost... and it was something she was willing to trade her soul for. A few nights before her wedding, Lauren sought a way to break her fourth engagement. Known for her bad reputation as the rebel princess, she was the only lady who had the guts to step foot on the Everston mansion, the house of a notorious warlord, in the middle of the night. She offered him a wicked alliance that the entire kingdom did not see coming: a marriage. A vixen pretending to be a damsel in distress and a man whose crimson eyes screaming for bloodshed. Could something blossom in this treacherous dance of lies and deception? -- "Are you upset?" She eyed him sharply. "Should I be honored that I got tricked by you, milord?" He drank the remaining wine in his glass with one gulp and put it on the wooden table. He stepped in front of her. His hand was on the rail on her side while his other hand grabbed her glass and finished her wine before putting it down. The way his Adam's apple moved with his every violent gulp made her feel a tickling heat around her nape. When he brought his attention back to her, he licked his lips to wipe off the trace of wine. "How shall I make it up to you then?" he asked with his deep voice, like a seductive devil asking his victim how she would like to be killed. Dangerous yet… enthralling. - Note: This is a dark fantasy-romance genre with a lot of gore, family feuds, steamy scenes, twists and turns, and other explicit content (no rape) that will rile you up and might give you a heart attack so basically this is not for soft-hearted ones, so read at your own risk!

macy_mori · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
259 Chs

The Dream

Lauren opened her eyes to the sound of crashing waves. She found the light from above blinding, and she soon realized she was lying somewhere outdoors with the sunlight directly hitting her face. She rose carefully and her brows furrowed in confusion. She was in some place she had never been before—on a shore she was sure wasn't anywhere in Evardin.

The smell of salty air was so potent that for a second she doubted if it was a dream. The sands on her palms, the wind gusting, the wild waves that kept coming back to the shore, the calm silence in between the small earthy sounds… how could a dream be so vivid?

"Welcome to my island," said someone behind her.

She turned, and her eyes flew wide when she saw the dead priestess who talked to her months ago. Eleanor—it was the name the vicar gave her.

"I hope that expression is surprised, not horrified," the priestess said with a small smile.