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If She’s Wicked (Wicked Knights #1)
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She’s a war I cannot win. She’s our salvation.
He’s a battle I’m willing to fight.
This isn’t a love story. It’s a dark and twisted battle of wills and bare bones. They’re going to war against one another, and it will be brutal, chaotic, and beautiful. So if you’re not into dark retellings of twisted love stories, this isn’t for you. Thank you for looking, but I’m an unapologetic author of alpha-holes and the women who fight back against them. I don’t believe in insta-love. I believe in putting them through hell and making them earn it first.
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The incessant buzzing next to my head refused to stop, no matter how much I ignored it. Turning over in bed, I glared at the world’s evilest invention since the iron maiden. As I slapped at it, it still refused to stop squealing as my fingers missed the button repeatedly. The asshole who had invented this contraption had to be among the world’s most hated people. Now, the one who added the snooze button, he had more fans, of that I was sure. Rolling out of bed, I stretched as I began digging through the endless pile of dirty clothes that sat beside my bed, scattered on the floor. Someday, I’d get around to washing or burning them.
I sniffed myself before hauling my ass towards the fridge, dressed and unimpressed with how this day was starting off already, considering it wasn’t even a Monday. I piled my unruly hair into a mess of a bun that wasn’t appealing by any means and headed towards the freezer for the coffee I had pilfered from a store being ransacked by demons last week. Of course, I’d left the demon corpses behind as payment, because I preferred to earn the things I took.
My clock started buzzing again from the bedroom, pulling an eye roll from me that almost resulted in a strain as I groaned, flipping through the months on the calendar. A circle had been penned around today, marking it doomsday. I snorted, staring at it as I tried to stave off the fear that came with it. Swallowing hard, I grabbed the pen, bit the lid off between my teeth, and crossed it off. Sealing the pen back up, I tossed it into the trash can and frowned at the calendar again, as if I could light it afire with my mind alone.
Marching back into my bedroom, I ripped the alarm clock from the wall and slammed it against the floor, staring at it. My eyes gazed up at the pictures of the couple who had lived here before the world had gone to utter shit. They looked happy, almost too happy. I really should have removed their pictures, but I enjoyed staring at the blatant lie that they’d lived once upon a time. I’d had to remove their corpses months ago, as I had moved in here. Oftentimes, I wondered what it would be like to have the luxury of belonging to something.
I wasn’t wanted by anyone. I had been created to save two races, the druids and Templars, both cursed by ancient witches who had probably been warranted for what they’d done. I mean, the races I was destined to save were assholes; it was as simple as that. When they hadn’t been able to find a way around the curse, they’d banded together and created me. The only child ever created from their two races, both who had drunk from the cauldron of Dagda, and then made me. And so the story went. That was over one hundred years ago, and now they were encroaching on D-Day. According to their seers, a female druid and a male Knight had to give birth to a child of both races, without the magic of the cauldron that had been used to create me, of course. The big problem with that? There were no female druids alive or created, except yours truly.
They actually expected me to lie back, spread my thighs, and do as I was told. As if. They had made damn sure I knew I was unwanted, that I was nothing more than the bane of their existence, but still, they expected me to save them. Irony. I was an unnatural, unwanted occurrence that had one job and one job only. The druids had beaten that into me as a child, reinforcing it anytime I forgot my place. I was evil incarnate, which might have been the only thing they hadn’t gotten wrong.
My eyes slowly took in the mess that littered the front room. The piles of books and ancient manuscripts I’d stolen to find a way out of the curse—and to skip over the whole pregnancy issue. The rest of the place was filled with books or scripts that I’d taken from the library to indulge in, as my solitary existence had become smothering. It wasn’t that I minded being alone, but the silence of it was unnerving most days.
I pulled open the freezer and reached in to pull out the coffee, smirking at the irate demon who stared back at me. I patted him with my free hand before bringing it back to stifle a yawn. “Morning, Fred. I trust you slept well?” Leaving the door open, I moved to the coffee maker and poured fresh water into it before piling grounds in and clicking it on to brew.