www.mirabooks.co.uk

      New York Times and USA Today bestselling author GENA SHOWALTER has been praised for her “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly spellbinding stories”. She is the author of more than seventeen novels and anthologies, including breathtaking paranormal and contemporary romances, cutting-edge young adult novels and stunning urban fantasy. Readers can’t get enough of her trademark wit and singular imagination.

      To learn more about Gena and her books, please visit www.genashowalter.com and www.genashowalter blogspot.com.

       Other sexy, steamy reads from Gena Showalter and MIRA Books

       ATLANTIS

      HEART OF THE DRAGON

      JEWEL OF ATLANTIS

      THE NYMPH KING

      THE VAMPIRE’S BRIDE

       LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD

      THE DARKEST NIGHT

      THE DARKEST KISS

      THE DARKEST PLEASURE

      THE DARKEST WHISPER

      DARK BEGINNINGS

      THE DARKEST PASSION

      THE DARKEST LIE

       More stunning tales from Gena Showalter are coming your way…

      INTERTWINED UNRAVELLED

      To Jill Monroe (the author, not the hard-hitting journalist of Author Talk) for loving vampires as much as I do.

      To Sheila Fields, Donnell Epperson and Betty Sanders for saying, “What about a paranormal survivor?”

      To Pennye Edwards for always taking care of me.

      To Kresley Cole, Melissa Francis, Marley Gibson, Kristen Painter, Louisa Edwards, Maria Geraci, Pamela Harty, Elaine Spencer, Deidre Knight, Roxanne St. Claire and (again) Jill Monroe for making me laugh—and spit up blueberries.

      Lastly, to Jill Monroe (the hard-hitting journalist of Author Talk, not the author) for asking the questions readers really want to know.

      ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

      To the two ladies who help and guide me every step of the way: Tracy Farrell and Margo Lipschultz.

      I couldn’t do it without you!

      Prologue

      LAYEL, KING OF THE VAMPIRES, hated son of Atlantis, fought so fervently against his chains that the metal cut past skin and muscle, nearly slicing into bone. He did not care, continued to struggle. What use were his hands without his beloved to caress?

      Susan. Inside his mind, the name was a prayer, a scream of desolation and a wail of sorrow, all twisted into an agonizing spiral of shame. How could he have allowed this to happen?

      “Release him,” someone said. Layel would have looked at the speaker, but he could not pull his gaze from his woman. Or rather, what was left of her. “Let him see up close what he has wrought upon himself.”

      Footsteps pounded. There was a tug on one wrist, then the other, and the chains gave way.

      Weak, nearly drained of blood, Layel tried to step away from the iron fence that propped him up, but his knees gave out and he collapsed. With the impact, hot breath abandoned him and reality settled deep. I’m too late. They kept me chained long enough to ensure she could not be turned. I cannot save her. He gagged. Gods, oh, gods.

      Susan lay a few feet away, her once vibrant, beautiful body now stripped, violated and burned. Around him, the dragons responsible laughed, their voices floating in and out of his consciousness.

      “…deserved this and more.”

      “…and look at him now.”

      “…pathetic. He never should have been crowned king.”

      Layel had left Susan in his palace, safe, happily drowsy and snuggled in bed, while he and a contingent of warriors doused a fire in the surrounding forest. He hadn’t known the fire had been started purposely until it was too late.

      Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods. A choked cry escaped him, blood spraying from his mouth. What seemed an eternity ago but could only be hours, he’d returned to an ambush, Susan’s screams echoing in his ears. The anguish he’d heard as she’d shouted for his aid, the pain he’d seen contorting her features as she’d pleaded with the dragons for the life of their unborn child…both would haunt him into eternity.

       Susan.

      By the time he’d fought his way to her, she’d already gone silent, her expression frozen in misery. The silence had been ten thousand times worse than the screams and writhing physical agony.

      Dead. She was dead. Layel had failed her in every possible way. And in his grief, the very dragons who killed her had managed to capture him. They’d torn him from Susan’s lifeless body and chained him to the gate in front of the palace. Then, oh, gods, then they had dragged her body in front of him, taunting him with her death.