Night In His Eyes
Alisyn Fae & Emma Alisyn
(The Fae Prince of Everenne, #1)
Publication date: March 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
A war of Fae Houses. A Prince waking from darkness. A woman drenched in his blood.
Prince Renaud, my mother’s killer, is waking. The Court has not felt the full weight of an Old One in centuries, and it’s my fault.
I am Aerinne Capulette, Lady of House Faronne, and I will have my vengeance against House Montague and Renaud. But despite the ground war I’ve led since I was a child, we remain locked in bloody stalemate.
If the Prince takes the field against us, he will rip from my mind the secret that will shred any hope for peace, or victory.
He will kill me if he discovers the truth. . .
. . .sweet, foolish child. Your death is not what I desire. I have not waited, watched, and planned for centuries to let something as petty as a halfling girl’s vengeance keep me from claiming what is mine.
To protect you, and to ensure my reign, I will bend you to my will. I will slake this obsession with your blood and tears, and I will yield you to no one.
Let your House protest. Let my Court look aghast. They are nothing.
And you—you are my anchor.
We may be enemies, but your hatred only seduces my darkness.
Night in His Eyes is an adult high heat, slow burn Fae fantasy romance, first in the Fae Prince of Everenne series. This not a standalone and ends in a cliffhanger.
For readers who crave enemies-to-lovers, obsessed dark heroes, murderous heroines and a battle of dark wills and enjoy authors such as Sylvia Mercedes, Sarah J. Maas, Kathryn Ann Kingsley, and Laura Thalassa.
Goodreads / Amazon
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EXCERPT:
“No.”
The Prince halted, and glanced up at the sky. “My amusement is diminishing. I had hoped to relearn the taste of wine tonight.”
“Sorry to keep you from your red.” I doubted he was a white kind of guy.
“It is not an apology I desire from you.”
What did he desire. . .other than the subjugation of Everenne’s Low Fae, and the Lords of the High and Low Courts kneeling beneath his boot?
I lifted my blades.
Renaud’s mouth thinned as he let me attack, eyes a flat grey. I refused to return to Faronne without every bone in my body broken from trying. I wouldn’t kneel at my mother’s grave and confess weakness.
Return victorious or on your shield.
A line of fire grazed my sword arm. I ignored the pain and my dark angel, sheathing my long dagger and shifting the sabre to my left hand so the dripping blood didn’t threaten my grip.
I panted, my breaths harsh and acid with the nausea of forcing myself to remain on my feet. The moon peeked over the horizon.
“Enough, Aerinne,” the Prince said, expression now concealed by the encroaching night. His eyes still glowed.
“Stop. . .saying my name like that.” I swayed.
“Like what?”
“Like you know me.”
“You cannot fathom what I know, girl. Now, sheathe your sword.” A bite in his voice. A hint of a leviathan in his depths.
“No—”
The back of his hand crashed against my face.
I crumpled to the ground. He’d pulled the blow at the last second, enough not to break me. But definitely sufficient to enforce the command to lay down my sabre.
I was staring up at the sky, dazed and unable to force my limbs to work, when a strong hand wrapped around my sword arm and yanked me to my feet.
“Tell me what you see,” Prince Renaud said.
I didn’t need to look around me to know. The white stone was awash with red, dark because of the night. And the Prince surveyed it coolly, unfazed and still at full strength. Killing him wouldn’t be easy.
“The result of several generations worth of blood feuds.” I matched his chill, pointed tone, channeling the hauteur my mother could don at the drop of a hat, the effect marred because my head ached, and my words came out slightly slurred.
Renaud shifted his grip, arm sliding around my back to hold me up as if shouldering my weight was the most natural thing in the world. “The result of our inability to change.”
He grabbed the sabre still clutched in my hand and tossed it aside. “Our enduring obstinacy and adherence to norms that almost caused our destruction once. I did not cross the realms and seize this city only for it to bite my hand. This—” his gaze traveled over the battle “—this was never your ambition. It was never even your mother’s.”
“Don’t speak of her.” Another twist of pain in my head. I grit my teeth through the pulse.
His arm tightened around me. “I knew Maryonne for far longer than you, girl. I’ll speak of her if I wish, and you will listen.”
Anger gave me a jet stream of strength. “I may be hot-headed, but you’re arrogant. You think you know our moves and will counter them all.” I pushed away from him and turned, one foot behind the other. “I won’t listen to you.”
If I had doubts before, I had none now. He would pay for my mother, for his casual claim of kinship to which he had no right. She was mine, grief was mine.
“And if you cared for my mother, as you imply, Danon would be free!” I screamed the last three words, self-control broken and tossed aside like trash. “I’ll leave this field when one of us is dead.”
Eyes narrowed and watchful, he didn’t move, the sword in his hand pointed down. “So you Vowed.”
Wind whipped my hair in my face, a sudden steep rise of the night breeze. “I will fulfill my Vow, and not only because I must.”
I took another step back, defiant, uncaring of his anger.
Paused.
And bared my teeth. For a fleeting moment, I accepted what I was.
Fae.
Bound by my anger, grounded in my vengeance.
I might fail, but I would fail victoriously, taking his blood and kin with me as I perished.
“Release the wyverns!”
Author Bio:
Emma is a 40 mumble mumble bi-racial American Muslim mom of five who writes PNR & SFR.
Her dragons, fae, and bears will most interest readers who like their alphas strong, protective, and smokin’ hot; their heroines feisty, brainy, too grown to give a *uck, and over the age of 30.
Her stories feature men and women of diverse backgrounds.
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