Tempted by a Rogue Prince Read Free

square in the face, breaking his nose. Blood streamed over his lips. His vision distorted. No. He couldn’t pass out. He couldn’t give in.
    His mental link to his armour fragmented. He managed to muster the strength to call a pair of black trousers to encase his lower half before the scales peeled away, rapidly running over his body, and disappeared into the twin black and silver metal bands around his wrists.
    Vail collapsed onto the dirty slick stone flags, a black void rising up to swallow him.
    The last thing he heard was the leader ordering the others to take him to the cells and have him healed.
    He snarled, but barely squeezed the sound out from between his bloodied lips before he sank into the black void, into nightmares filled with horrific replays of Kordula and the cruelty she had inflicted upon him, a torture of mind, body and soul.
    Vail swore an oath.
    If this healer was a sorceress…
    He would kill her.

CHAPTER 2
    R osalind stared at the unconscious male lying on the stone slab in the middle of the cell. Torchlight from the corridor beyond the thick metal bars lining one side of the dank windowless room flickered across his battered and bruised body, darkening every ugly mark and deep gash, and all the blood that stained him.
    Was it his or had he hurt the bastard demons who had put him here?
    She liked to think he had given them hell. Mostly because she couldn’t.
    He hadn’t stirred in the five minutes she had been kneeling beside him, transfixed by the sight of him. He lay as if dead. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest was indication otherwise.
    His hands rested on his stomach, his wrists bound by the same heavy metal cuffs that held hers. She wanted to find whoever had discovered this metal and how to impregnate it with a spell and blast them to hell. The manacles weakened her, stripping her of her powers. The only one available to her was the ability to heal, and she only had that one because the new Fifth King of the demons had given it back to her so she could heal all of the warriors who had been injured in the war with the Third King.
    A war the Fifth Realm had lost when the old Fifth King had lost his head.
    A war she had fought in on the side of King Thorne of the Third Realm.
    A war that had changed her forever.
    Since returning her ability to cast healing magic, the new Fifth King had used her whenever he had needed someone fixed, forcing her to do his bidding, and up until today, all of her patients had been demons belonging to his army.
    But this man was no demon.
    Her knees ached from pressing into the damp uneven stone floor but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He radiated dark energy that warned her away, telling her that he was dangerous, even as she felt drawn to him, snared by an unbreakable pull towards him.
    Shuffling caught her attention and she looked across the unconscious man to the cell opposite his. A handsome man with long dark brown hair flecked with gold tied back with a thong and an unkempt beard leaned against the thick stone wall close to the bars of that cell, as bare-chested as her companion, although his skin was flawless with the exception of the fae markings that tracked up his arms and over his shoulders.
    An incubus.
    Rosalind muttered a protection spell beneath her breath, even though it wouldn’t work. It was a habit with her. She preferred to arm herself against an incubus’s charms before he could use them on her, luring her under his spell and having his way with her. Code of honour, her arse. These men pretended in public that they upheld their vow to never use their powers to seduce a woman who didn’t want to be seduced, but in private they employed those powers without a flicker of regret or care about their victim. She had seen it.
    The man eyed her patient, blue and gold spotting his green irises, a sign of his incubus nature as much as the markings that announced his lineage.
    “Let him die,” the man said, his voice a low growl of