BOOK TITLE * The Dark Prince Les Fées: The French Fae Legend
BOOK GENRE * Paranormal Romance
PAGE NUMBERS * 282
PUBLISHER * Emma V Leech
The man of your dreams is coming… or is it your nightmares he visits? Laen is Prince of the Dark fae, with a temper and reputation to match his black eyes, and a heart that despises the human race. When he is sent back through the forbidden gates between realms to retrieve an ancient fae artifact, he returns home with far more than he bargained for.
He heard her gasp and saw her fists clench with rage. Good, he wanted her to be angry. It was in anger that she would reveal her true nature.
“Where is the rest of it?”
He watched as Océane tore her eyes from her precious book to glare at him. “What do you mean? That’s all there is.”
“Liar!” he snarled, snatching up the board she had been working on at the museum. There was a half-finished painting of the dagger on it and a chapter heading: The Dark Prince is Lost.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He watched her face fall as she saw that he had taken the illustration she had been working on at the museum as well as the book.
“It’s just a story,” she said, looking up at him with those big eyes and holding her hands out helplessly. “I had no idea it was your story.” Her voice was pleading and to his disgust he found a part of him wanted to believe her. “I … I thought I was making it up, honestly.”
“What do you know of honesty?” He sneered. “Very well, and supposing I pretend to believe this … preposterous idea, tell me, what happens next?”
He watched the alarm on her face and knew she was hiding something, that she knew something. Before she had time to come up with a decent story, to tell the lies that dripped so easily off the tongues of humans, he acted. He grabbed her by the wrists and slammed her up against the wall. He was so close; he knew she would feel his breath on her face, and he wondered if it were possible for her to actually die of fear as her heart surely could not survive at the rate it was beating against his chest.
“I can see your mind turn, trying to come up with a lie,” he whispered against her ear. “Please do not bother. I will get to the truth, sooner or later, and believe me when I say you will not like my methods of reaching it.” He deliberately looked her over, his eyes lingering on the low neck line of her dress, knowing full well what he was implying and despising himself for it. And yet he couldn’t stop his gaze from raking over her. He looked back at the terror in her eyes and had to remind himself over and again of everything he was protecting. It was so much harder than he would have believed not to touch her with more gentleness than he was doing now. He wondered what it would be like for her to look at him with something other than fear and hatred.
Before he had time to question either his thoughts or his actions, there was a commotion outside the door of the library and raised voices. The door swung open and Laen cursed as the man who entered quickly took in the scene in front of him and the unguarded look in Laen’s eyes.
A delighted smile played over the curve of the intruder’s mouth. “Oh, my dear fellow, do forgive me the interruption. The guards told me you were interrogating a prisoner, but I see they were quite mistaken.”
Laen dropped Océane as though she had burned him, and quickly arranged his face into a more suitable expression. “The guards were perfectly correct, Corin,” he growled, glaring at Océane with hatred.
Corin scrutinised him, his interest piqued. “Well nonetheless, please do not forget your manners. Won’t you introduce me to your charming captive?” He turned to give Océane the benefit of a devastating smile.
Laen’s furious glare drifted from Océane and back to Corin, scowling harder as he saw the way his friend’s warm gaze lingered on her and the returning gleam in Océane’s eyes. He cursed with fury when he saw the realisation dawn on her face. She had finally found a powerful ally.
As a child I spent more time than I’m going to admit to wishing I was Samantha from Bewitched. Yet despite hours spent perfecting the nose twitch; sadly I have to say that – so far at least – no magical ability has been discovered. Now I have to say it’s looking unlikely, but remain hopeful. I was born in Kent in the UK and moved to France in 1998. I currently live, according to my husband, in LALA land but the rest of the time in the middle of nowhere in darkest Dordogne, as far from the real world as possible. I’m married with three daughters and a wild imagination. I like Tarot cards and anything creepy… except spiders. I worship at the altar of Florence + the Machine and am addicted to music, as long as it’s LOUD! I love chocolate, think The Wizard of Oz is the scariest film I’ve ever seen and still believe in faeries.
WEBSITE * www.emmavleech.com
TWITTER * @LaDameBlanche24