The Road to Hell #3
Paranormal Erotic Romance available through Decadent Publishing
Victory is hollow when fate maneuvers one as a pawn.
Sometimes internal conflict can house our biggest demons.
With allies divided and prophecy heralding defeat,
gambles on Micah’s tenuous honor to keep their son protected. Torn between her
heart’s desires and her dark requirements, Madison worries her hellish fate cannot be
avoided. When betrayal comes from an unlikely direction, all their futures may
be damned. In the darkest hour of Madison ’s
life, an undeniable providence will transpire. Who can she trust? And how far
will she fall to defeat her foes? Madison
Amid the rubble of defeat, will Hell’s Genesis Queen dawn?
She took a deep breath, like she needed the extra oxygen to deal with him. “Did you square away the angels in Hell?”
“Yes.” Details weren’t necessary when they both knew he’d instituted a brutal torture regimen for all of them. “Dance with me?”
“To this music?”
“You didn’t appear to be having any problem.” He held his hand out toward her.
She stared at his palm. Her expression was reminiscent of an individual confident selling their soul was a reckless choice but entering the deal anyway.
“I don’t bite.”
Her gaze felt like an impact against his. “You did in Hell.”
He wrangled the grin under control. “Then I won’t bite.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Micah.”
A casual shrug when nothing about her body language suggested she felt relaxed. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Nix says my idea of dancing is sex with clothes on. He couldn’t tolerate it and if he couldn’t….” She trailed off and gaped at him as if she’d just realized she’d been about to insult him.
Micah grinned. “I haven’t lived as long as I have without executing restraint.” He stepped closer to her. “I’ve controlled myself with you more than any other.” Because she is my woman and deserves my respect.
She bit her bottom lip. Her breathing grew shallow. The heavy beat of the music thumped around them. His pulse throbbed faster.
“Relax,” he said when she remained inflexible. A soft wind would break one of her bones. “I only want to dance with you.” Like when they’d been married, just a different manner of movement. This one more intimate than what they normally partook.
Her focus locked on his jaw, and she sharply inhaled when he slid his palm down her back and settled on her hips. He executed the first moves and she followed. As if magnetized, they gyrated in perfect synchronicity.
About the Author:
Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a “normal” person in southern society. When not writing, she’s a full-time basketball/football/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband. She’s addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies,
football and coffee…addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She is
convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and blending coffee and writing
together generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are
spawned from coffee highs. Alabama
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