"Will it kill you to back the fuck up?" I snapped. "Yes, princess," he whispered sweetly against my ear, voice full of that sick affection. "It would. I would drop dead right here if I couldn't be next to you." "My lucky day," I muttered sarcastically.

I cupped her face, planting a soft kiss on her beautiful lips. "Don't ever run from me, baby," I said softly, letting my thumb trace her jaw. "I love the chase." Her jaw tightened, her hands coming up to try and move mine. "Stop calling me baby, Ezra," she snapped, eyes flashing. I couldn't help but grin, dropping my voice to something low and dark. "Ohhh, now my baby has a problem with me calling her baby?" She shot me a glare, but I just tucked her hair behind her ear, pressing another kiss to her lips-gentler this time, lingering. "You don't get to tell me what to call you, baby." I leaned in closer, brushing my nose against hers. "You're whatever the fuck I call you."

She was the undesired outcast, who stood out, yet simultaneously blended effortlessly into the background. I could see the panic in her glassy brown eyes as she prayed her way through the crowded hallways. She'd tightly clutch that cross around her neck, full lips whispering, asking her God to spare her from their scornful glares, hateful comments, and the occasional rough-up. Silly girl. Did she not know that he was not listening and he would never save her? Like Jesus, she was the sacrificial lamb. The anxiety-riddled girl would burst through the doors of the school's library with her chest heaving, heart racing, and sweat dripping from her temples. I'd watch her from the shadows as she stored her items behind the check-out counter, preparing for her free period she spent assisting the school librarian. I clenched my teeth, watching her wheel a cart of books throughout the aisles as she cheerfully hummed her Sunday hymnals. She wore a green and blue pinafore dress that fell mid-calf on her shapely body. She attempted to hide that body from me with oversized clothes, but you could never outfox a fox. They spoke pure blasphemy when they labeled her undesirable because I desired Jezebel Holmes in the worst way. Those opaque white stockings our classmates teased her for wearing did nothing but spur countless hours of fantasies. I'd dream about ripping her tights apart, right at her center, revealing her virginal cotton white panties covering her untouched paradise. I'd yank them to the side and taste her fear in her cum. Her stockings would find themselves strangling her neck while I fucked a believer out of her. I would be the one she'd pray to absolve her of her sins. I would be the one she would seek protection from. I would be her guiding light. I would be her God. #1 in Dark Romance #1 in Tainted Love #1 in Preacher's Daughter 1st Place in General Category - Hearts Award

Her stubborn resistance fuels their desire. Their love breeds pain. Their anger stokes war. No one is willing to risk their lives to save Phaedra from the violent conquerers of the Lyon Realm who have made her their mate. Or is there...?