The Fae Prince of Everenne
3 primary works
Book 1
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 progressively darker romance, first in the Fae Prince of Everenne series. This not a standalone and ends in a cliffhanger. For readers of morally gray Princes and bloodthirsty heroines in the vein of Jennifer L. Armentrout, Michelle Sagara, Kathryn Ann Kingsley, N.K. Jemisin, and Laura Thalassa—bend a knee to our goddesses.
Book 2
Blood on his lips. Power in his touch. A maelstrom in his eyes.
The Prince, an Old One, High Lord of House Montague, is fixated on claiming me. The weight of his grip crushes my throat, and resistance is . . . well.
Futile.
I am Aerinne Capulette, last daughter of Faronne, and survival forces me to accept he killed my mother, that he will drag me to his bed fighting and cursing as he laughs.
But I will not accept the subjugation of my House, my family, my friends. If any blood coats my hands, it will be his.
My unknown power stirs, and with it a glimmer of understanding. Of course he wants me for more than my body. For why am I the only person in the city who can see the shape of his power?
Renaud is power. He plays the long game.
. . .and if you wish to walk the board as queen, and not as pawn, you will play it too, my halfling.
I have said you have no choice. You anchor my sanity.
I have also said I will make you strong enough to bear me. You have noted the storm gathering on the horizon? Scented smoke and crushed blooms in the air?
Yes. A danger that eclipses us both approaches.
I will destroy you before I allow you to be taken. I do not yield what is mine.
But. . .if you submit, it may not come to such a pass. Your darkness may yet rise stronger than my own.
Give yourself to me, and I will give you answers. And then, my halfling, I will teach you to rule.
Book 3
Mirror, mirror in my abyss, who is truly the Darkest Fae in our midst? Renaud may taste my blood on his lips, but I have his son’s blood on my hands.
The time for secrets is coming to a close. We must both step onto another killing field—far from Everenne—but fields soaked in lies turn into mines to destroy us all.
Perhaps resistance is futile. . .I have never heard of a halfling who repudiated a bond of a High Fae Lord, especially a mad Prince who is willing to kill to keep.
But I will brace my feet in the sand and hold my weight. I will not be swept away in the storm between the Old One at my back and the Ancient approaching my front.
Resistance may be futile, but my mother’s strength forms the marrow in my bones. I am the blood of an Ancient, after all.
You will not tame me easily, my Prince.
. . .I weary of this, Lady Aerinne. Of your resistance, of your rashness. Do you think my patience infinite? Have I inadvertently taught you I would stay my hand because I love you?
No longer.
Your secret is finally mine, the shadow in your mind you have kept hidden from me—you are learning to navigate the board, halfling.
Learning to seduce a Prince.
You will feel the weight of my wrath. The force of my want. Bend, or break. . .I care not. You are mine.
I have ensured it already. I have welded us by blood and seed, and when the flower bears my fruit. . .
Checkmate, my Princess.
An Heir for our Court.
You think I play the long game. Now you understand I play the eternal game.
Your move.