Flesh house
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The moment the girl fell was the moment she died. And the girl died a long way before she hit the ground.
Krita Winters is a flesh doll, a runaway. She hides in the new world from the puppet master. Her solitude, however, does not last.
Yet it is not he who pulls the strings.
Chaos, horror, conflict. The world is a grim place. And it continues to be beyond the bloodwood, the first volume of Flesh house.
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Extract from book;
Velairn stood frozen as he watched the tar of a black heart leak. Krita Winters was worse than a monster. People were monsters. Throughout Velairns long life he had seen that: watched them switch. The worst were those who had been good. Often too good.
Krita was rage. Pure, undiluted rage. Velairns men could do no damage. The only stain Krita bore was the mark of herself.
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In the kingdom of Valtoria, queens are meant to be soft, obedient, and disposable. Seraphina was supposed to be a pawn-a fragile doll molded by the hands of men who sought to use her. But they underestimated her. At sixteen, she turned the game on them, painting the palace red with their blood. With every execution, every whispered plea for mercy drowned beneath her laughter, she became something far worse than a ruler. She became a monster. Now, at eighteen, she rules alone, feared as the Mad Queen-the Butcher of Valtoria. Her kingdom prospers under her reign of terror, but a queen without a king is an invitation for war. Enemies lurk in the shadows, waiting for the moment to strike. Suitors come not with love, but with hidden daggers, each one eager to claim her throne. But then he arrives. A man unlike any she has ever met-one who does not kneel, does not flinch beneath her gaze. A man with secrets as dark as her own, whose smirk is a challenge, whose touch ignites something unfamiliar within her. He does not seek to tame her; he seeks to match her. And for the first time in her life, Seraphina wonders: Has she finally met someone she cannot break? Or has she found the one person who can destroy her? A tale of blood, power, and the kind of love that consumes.
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