Page 34 of Princess Redeemed
The scent of rotted flesh and evil blood…
Evil…
Evil who knows love.
That’s the demon king.
And he’s an alpha lycan.He’s love who knows evil.
Somewhere an ancient script has led him to this fate.
To this mutiny.
To this kill.
He traipses through the carpet of corpses, follows his nose to the stench of royal demon blood.
He’s not dead.Not yet.You are compelled by the ancient pact to be the one to overthrow him, bring to the throne a new monarch who isn’t tainted by love for a human.You…and your half-breed bitch.
And the wolf knows, as if he’s had the image in his head for all time.
It’s nothisfate to kill the demon king.
That purpose belongs to someone else.It was only his destiny to pave the way.
The demon king lies, his leg injured, in a pile of ash at the far end of the lair.His throne made of iron sits empty.
Ready for a new demon to replace him.Who?The wolf doesn’t know.Doesn’t care.
He knows only what he must do.
19
“Have you lost your mind?”Dominic enters Rogan’s closet and knocks on the back wall.“There’s nothing in here, princess.What the fuck?Can’t you see?”
“For God’s sake.”I walk in after him, brushing by Rogan’s garments—suits, robes, jeans, a few tuxedos—and inhaling.
My fangs snap down with the sharp pain I’ve learned to ignore.Rogan—lusty, wolfy Rogan.His scent is all over this closet, all over his clothes.I noticed it as soon as we walked into his penthouse, but here it’s so thick I can almost see it.The scent of his body.
The scent of his blood—that intoxicating mélange of dark chocolate and lusty red wine.Of blackberries and smoky leather.
And then in my ears…
I hear it…
The whooshing of his blood through his veins.
I grab Dominic’s arm and yank him back, pulling him out of the closet.
And I inhale.I slide my nose over his neck, listen to his heartbeat, his blood surging through his body.
That must be what I sense.Only Dominic.
But I know better.
Dominic smells good—his blood tastes good—but that’s not what hit me inside the closet.
The scent of Rogan would be in his closet, of course.It’s on his clothes, his shoes, his accessories.Even the scent of his blood.
