Wicked Crown (Wicked Book 1)
By Luna Joya
When a blood vow comes due, a supermodel/goblin princess must team up with a bad boy witch to collect seven cursed jewels and stop a supernatural killer from destroying the world in DISCOVERY OF WITCHES meets SUICIDE SQUAD.
She’s not who—or what—she appears to be. Neither is he.
Supermodel Vori would be happy to stay in the human world, blissfully ignoring her true nature. But no. The blood vow she once made requires her to return to the Goblin Court. And since going alone would mean consenting to an arranged marriage, she needs a fake husband. Someone no one would miss if there was an unfortunate…accident. Vori knows the perfect man for the job.
Witch Perry used to be a hotshot lawyer. But that was before he made all the wrong choices, wound up in league with a demon, and was left to rot in prison. Now, he has a second chance. He can finally earn his redemption. Too bad his last hope is the woman he ghosted two years ago.
It’s not long before Vori and Perry realize they aren’t as different as they thought—and that the line between enemies and lovers can be razor thin. But if they want their happily ever after, they’ll first have to stop a supernatural killer and survive a royal smackdown. Should be easy for a goblin princess and her dashing antihero, right?
Fake marriage/Fake fiancé
One bed (because I can’t help myself)
Second Chance with a dash of enemies to lovers snark
Beauty and the Beast (But she’s both. Or maybe he is.)
He opened his eyes, sure he’d imagined her. But no. She walked out of the shadows, tall, ethereal, and pissed off judging by the glare.
She was here.
He stood too fast. His head spun like a demon-summing circle. “Vori?”
“You’re a hard man to find. You took off on me two years ago without a word. I understand you’ve been preoccupied—joining a demon-led cult, almost killing witch Senate heirs, prison, jailbreak, being locked up again. You could’ve just said you weren’t interested.”
“I shouldn’t have left you that night.” The truth he’d waited so long to tell her rushed out.
“But you did.” She twisted her mouth into a mockery of the supermodel smile that flashed from magazine covers. “How was your time in witch jail? Not so good, it seems.”
“I…” He couldn’t admit it. Not to her. Not the horrible crimes he’d committed. The witch world would never forgive him. Hell, he didn’t blame them.
“I know what you’ve done.” Her condemning tone made it sound like he was being sentenced for his crimes.
“Then why are you here? How?” Maybe that was the better question. “I didn’t hear you come in. Not your footsteps outside. Not the door opening. Not your breathing. Nothing.” He inhaled. “Wildflowers and rain.” The same scent he remembered from when they’d met, the scent he’d had to lean close to breathe in over the smoke and booze and sweat of the nightclub. “I couldn’t smell your perfume a minute ago. How’d you get in?”
“Getting in is the easy part. It’s the getting out that seems to be difficult for you. I let you out once, and here you are locked up again.” She sounded as if his being recaptured was an inconvenience.
“Why did you help me?”
“Were you faking the speechless act at the prison? So I wouldn’t know who you were?”
“No.” Although he should have. Running into a love interest while not looking your best was one thing but seeing a crush while imprisoned took it to a whole other level.
She lifted her chin. He’d seen her strike that pose on a fashion runway. “The night we met, you told me you’re a survivor above all else. Were you lying?”
“I never lied to you.” He hadn’t.
“You didn’t die in the demon’s Revelare, and you made it through whatever torture the witch Senate dished out. So I’m assuming you possess some self-preservation skills even if you were a witch out on Halloween.” She huffed a disapproving noise. “Not a wise choice.”
No, it hadn’t been, but not for the reasons she might think. He’d been tricked into going to the club for information about his sister Lili’s murder. How could he have known the woman who’d walked into the club looking exactly like his dead sister was a demon-summoned succubus wearing her skin? He’d followed the creature out of the club and into the ranks of the Revelare.
Vori flicked an Arctic gaze over him, one so unlike the looks she’d given him that first night. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Yes?” Despite the way she wielded her proposition like a death sentence, the promises and possibilities of that word had the electricity under his skin jumping toward her. He slammed what little of a lockdown he could on his powers, but not before sparks danced across his fingertips.
She gestured toward the magic as if it hadn’t surprised her. Or scared her. “We can deal with that as well.”
“Stolen magic that’s devouring me from the inside out isn’t something you deal with. It’ll kill me if the Senate or Revelare can’t finish me off first.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Sparky.” She laughed. Not a polished giggle. No, this was more of a snort. It should’ve been annoying, off-putting, anything but attractive. Why did everything about her have to be so sexy? “I’ll figure out a fix for your demon powers.”
“Male witches don’t have active powers.” He recited the universal truth.
“Yes, I know the rule. Everyone knows the rule. But here you are with powers. That magic should’ve killed you when the demon put it inside you. Or scorched through you the first time you invoked it. Yet, you live. I’m counting on your ability to survive. Or that you’re so very expendable if something unfortunate were to happen.”
Her last words had all his internal alarms screaming danger, danger, but he couldn’t seem to worry when she was here. With him. Again. “What do you need?”
“I need you for a job. A five-day, make it out alive and you walk away with your freedom gig.”
“I need a husband. You in?”
About Luna Joya
Award-winning author Luna Joya writes steamy witch romances with mysteries, strong heroines, and the heroes who love them.
Fluent in sarcasm and penal code, Luna prosecutes crimes by day and writes at night. A survivor of traumatic brain injury with steel body parts, she lives in SoCal with her combat veteran husband and their two-pound terror of a rescue pup.
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