Tempted by a Rogue Prince

An elf prince on the verge of losing himself to the darkness, Vail is maddened by the forty-two centuries he was under the control of a witch and forced to war with his brother. Now, he roams Hell seeking an escape from his terrible past and the heads of all who bear magic. When demons of the Fifth Realm capture him, he sees a chance to end his existence, but when he wakes in a cell to a beautiful female, he finds not death but his only shot at salvation—his true fated mate.

Captured by the enemy of the Third Realm when the war ended, Rosalind has spent months in the cells of the Fifth Realm with her magic bound, forced to heal the new king’s demon warriors, and haunted by the lives she has taken. When she’s brought to heal an unconscious man, she discovers her only hope of escape has come in the form of her worst nightmare and the first part of a prediction that might spell her doom—a devastatingly handsome and dangerous dark elf prince.

Unwilling to fall under the control of anyone ever again, Vail must escape before the Fifth King can use him as a pawn in a deadly game of revenge, but he cannot leave without Rosalind, the woman who looks at him with dark desire in her stunning eyes and awakens a fierce hunger in his heart. A witch who drives him mad with need even as the darkness within whispers she will enslave him too.

Can Rosalind escape her fate as they embark on a journey fraught with danger and resist the temptation of her rogue elf prince? And can Vail overcome the memories that madden him in order to seize his chance for salvation and the heart of his fated female forever?

Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince

Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King

Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince

Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar (Coming in 2015)

Book 1: Covet

Book 2: Crave

Book 3: Seduce

Book 4: Enslave

Book 5: Bewitch

Book 6: Unleash

Book 1: Her Dark Angel

Book 2: Her Fallen Angel

Book 3: Her Warrior Angel

Book 4: Her Guardian Angel

Book 5: Her Demonic Angel

Book 6: Her Wicked Angel

Book 7: Her Avenging Angel (Coming in 2014)

Book 1: Prophecy: Child of Light

Book 2: Prophecy: Caelestis & Aurorea

Book 3: Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising

Book 3.1: Spellbound

Book 3.5: Reunion

Book 4: Seventh Circle

Book 5: Winter's Kiss

Book 6: Hunter's Moon

Book 7: Masquerade

Book 8: Hunger

Books 1-3 are also available in one anthology ebook: Prophecy Trilogy

Book 1: In Heat

Book 2: In Heat: Mating Call

Discover more available paranormal romance books at:
http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk

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D
esolate. Depraved. Filled with violence and darkness. Dangerous.

Vail trudged onwards, dragging his feet over the harsh, rocky black terrain, no longer sure if he was describing the bleak lands surrounding him or himself. A wry smile tugged at his dry, cracked lips, splitting his lower one. The scent of blood swirled around him, an enchanting aroma that caused saliva to pool in his parched mouth. He swept his tongue over the bitter liquid spotting his lip and imagined it to be a finer type.

One not corrupted by darkness and sin.

He had lost track of his position in the seven demon realms days or possibly weeks ago. The barren environment ran past him on repeat. Never changing. Forever the same. A grim featureless realm, devoid of colour and beauty, that left him feeling as if he had been walking in circles.

Perhaps he had.

There were holes in his memories of his unending trek across this wasteland towards nowhere in particular.

Sometimes, when the strange twilight of day gave way to the pitch black of night, replays of his time under Kordula’s spell bombarded him. They pressed down on him, the crushing darkness too strong to fight, battering him until his knees gave out and all he could do was scream out his rage until his voice gave out too.

After those incidents, he found himself walking again with no recollection of how he had found his feet and started moving onwards. Everything between blacking out and coming around was blank.

Horrifyingly blank.

But worse than the times when he came around to find himself stumbling onwards, were the times he woke to find himself doing so while fresh blood rolled down his tired and sore body and dripped from the black claws of his armour.

He killed without knowing about it.

Vail chuckled mirthlessly to himself.

A sure sign he had lost his mind and was no more than a monster now.

His left foot snagged on a rock and the earth welcomed him with a hard embrace.

Vail lay face down on the black ground, each hard breath stirring dust that choked him, fighting to muster the strength to push himself up and find his feet again. He pressed his hands into the sharp rocks but his muscles turned to water and his bones ached so fiercely his head swam with the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing instead, but even that was a struggle now.

He tilted his head to one side and stared at his left hand as he curled his fingers into a fist, clawing at the dirt.

He couldn’t stay like this. He couldn’t give up. Even when he wanted to surrender and find an eternal end to his suffering. If he stayed like this, he would fall asleep and the hold the nightmares had on him would grow stronger. Those terrible memories overwhelmed him too often now, dragging him deeper into insanity, until he found it hard to distinguish between reality and the past.

He couldn’t sleep.

Vail gritted his teeth and growled as he pushed himself up, his arms shaking violently with the strain, causing his entire body to tremble and his heart to race from the effort. He snarled and kept pushing, refusing to give in to the lure of sleep. His arms gave out and he hit the dirt again. The taste of blood on his tongue mocked him. He would have been strong enough to stand if he had been feeding.

He didn’t want to eat.

He didn’t want to sleep.

He just wanted to keep walking.

He didn’t care where, as long as it was away from his past.

Vail shoved his hands against the sharp tiny rocks and grunted as he forced himself up, not relenting this time, pushing past the pain and the fatigue, and the weakness invading him. Sweat dotted his brow and trickled down his back beneath the skin-tight scales of his black armour, and white spots winked across his vision, the exertion threatening to render him unconscious and deliver him into the arms of the mad beast waiting within him. It wanted out.

It wanted blood and violence.

Vail managed to make it onto his knees and slumped, his breath sawing out of his lungs and his head spinning, sending the ugly world around him twirling with it.

He clawed at the ground, bloodying his fingertips, aching for the connection to the earth that this despicable land refused to give to him.

Nature hid here, buried deep, shying away from the darkness and the demons.

He longed to feel her again, to sense her warmth flowing through him and the peace that came with being connected to her.

He shifted onto his backside, crossed his legs with effort, and laid his hands in his lap. He couldn’t have the link to nature that he craved right now, but he could find a sliver of peace through a different connection.

The one with his older brother, Loren.

Vail closed his eyes as they stung, the bridge of his nose burning with them and his throat tightening. He shoved aside the pain and focused on his blood, on his brother, and lifted the barrier he normally kept in place between them, shutting Loren out and making it impossible for his brother to find him.

The connection bloomed between them like warm sunshine, infusing him with peace and calm, with the constant affection his brother held for him despite all his sins and all the pain he had caused him over the past four thousand two hundred years they had been at war.

Four thousand two hundred years in which Vail had been a slave to a dark witch, forced to do her bidding against his will, whether it was massacring innocents, igniting wars between kingdoms, attacking his brother and his people, or things that were far worse. Unmentionable.

He rubbed at his arms, subconsciously scrubbing the feel of her hands from his body, the sickening lingering touches and the caresses.

And the other things.

Cold engulfed him, darkness rising from the pit of his soul as his mind travelled black paths that led him downwards into madness. He clawed at his arms and his armour covered his fingers, transforming them into sharp serrated black claws.

Vail brought his hands up and clutched at his head, digging his claws in deep and drawing blood, using the pain in the present to battle that in his past. His fangs grew longer, stabbing into his lower lip, and his pointed ears flared back against the sides of his head.

The warmth inside him increased, chasing back the icy cold, and he trembled with relief.

His brother was aware of him.

Reaching for him.

Tears spilled down Vail’s cheeks and he held the connection between them for as long as he could without risking Loren discovering his location, savouring it and using it to ground himself and anchor him to the present. The connection grew stronger, his brother reinforcing it from thousands of miles away, flooding him with love and affection, with memories of being with Loren back in their kingdom, and then even further back, to the old elf kingdom in the mortal realm, laughing like fools as they played as children in the lush colourful gardens of the castle.

Vail severed the connection, swiftly bringing up the barrier to shut his brother out, unable to bear any more.

He clumsily stumbled onto his feet, almost falling on his face again when his knees turned to jelly beneath him, and staggered onwards, heading for the horizon.

The gods only knew where he was going. How many days had it been since he had seen his brother?

Since he had protected his brother’s sweet mate?

Since he had felt magic around him again and sensed the presence of a witch?

Vail snarled, his lips peeling back off his fangs. He should have killed her. His fingers flexed at the thought of shredding her flesh, peeling it from her bones slice by slice while she screamed for mercy. He had no mercy left in him. No goodness. No kindness. No hope. A witch had made sure of that.

A witch had made him the enemy of all her kind.

They all deserved to die.

For every life that witch had forced him to take, he would kill one of her own treacherous, vile breed. He would wipe out their entire species, freeing the realms of their trickery and magic.

His thoughts flickered back to that moment on the battlefield, when Loren had stood before him, offering his hand.

Gods, Vail had wanted to take it.

He had been so close to placing his hand into his brother’s one and taking the comfort he offered, the acceptance and forgiveness.

A small part of him had even dared to hope that he could return to the castle in the elf kingdom and things could be as they were before Kordula had enslaved him and he had turned on his people, making an enemy of himself in order to protect them all from her, thwarting her plan to set herself up as their queen and enslave them all.

A fool’s dream.

Vail shuffled forwards, barely able to place one foot in front of the other. His ankles wobbled with each step and his muscles screamed in protest. His stomach growled, hunger riding him hard, dragging up replays of battles where he had gorged himself on blood, making himself stronger.

He denied it, too lucid right now to give in to its demands and risk awakening the beast within him, but he knew there would come a time when he blacked out again and woke with the taste of blood on his tongue. Rather things happened that way than while he was conscious. He didn’t want to remember the terrible things he did. There wasn’t room in his soul for any more of them. It was filled with the hideous, despicable things he had done, so black with them that not a speck of light could penetrate it.

Vail had seen elves turn. He had seen them degenerate into monsters, tainted by darkness, craving blood and violence.

He knew that his own turning was overdue. He should have become the embodiment of darkness millennia ago, his mind warped by the things Kordula had done to him, his soul blackened by the lives he had taken, and his body contaminated by the pleasure she had wrung from it.