PRINT: Into the Arms of the Demon (Dark Infernals #1) SIGNED NUMBERED PAPERBACK (3D Silver Foil & Painted Edges Premium Edition)

Plunge into the feral, twisted dungeons of Into the Arms of the Demon, a sizzling monster romance tale of betrayal, power, unhinged revenge, and freaky supernatural spice.

TO BE REBORN, SHE MUST FIRST BE DESTROYED.

Vyran: I was the fearsome right hand to the Infernal Empress—but her demonic empire fell. Two hundred years later, it’s my duty to resurrect it. To do that, I’ll need a battle queen by my side, and she’s the perfect specimen.

Broken, betrayed, abandoned … yet burning with a spark that could set the whole world ablaze.

I can remake her into a demon worthy of the infernal court, but to accept my power, she’ll have to survive every dark, forbidden thing I yearn to do to her.

Her will is strong. But if I have my way with her, she’ll beg to bend to mine.

Tassa: I’ve always had to hide what I am, cowering in darkness and crawling through dungeons, all so I can barely survive this harsh world. I thought my new adventuring party was my chance for a better life, until they uncovered my secret and trapped me in this dungeon to die for it.

But I’m not dead.

Now I’m a prisoner of a demon who’s offered me the world—if I prove I can claim it. He’s dark, seductive, and dangerous. Nothing like the people who betrayed me.

I’ve always had to be strong, to fight for survival. It’s never been enough.

But with the power he’s offered me, I’ll become the monster they fear.

“They expect to face what they call a succubus. They have no idea what fresh terror they’re about to face.”

Perfect for fans of Harley Laroux, Amber V. Nicole, Jasmine Mas, and fast burn, high stakes, monstrous fantasy romance!

THIS BOOK IS PERFECT FOR READERS WHO LOVE:

• Monster ... Mashing
• “Why Choose?”/Reverse Harem Romance
• Hurt/Comfort Vibes
• Morally Grey MCs
• A Badass Heroine Finding Her Strength and Entering Her Villain Era
• A Debonair But Secretly Feral Demon Eager to Help Her Discover Her Dark Side
•  A Good Boy Next Door Who’s Unaware of Any of This, Bless Him
• Dungeon Crawling and an RPG-Inspired World
• Extra Spicy Heat Levels
• For real, you’re gonna need several ice potions by the end of this thing, so stock up before you start. Ready? Ok go!

CONTENT WARNING:

This is a dark monster romance with multiple male love interests. Reader discretion advised.

Our heroine Tassa may start off weak and unassuming, but the dark path she ventures down transforms her forever. She embraces the darkness within her and, in so doing, becomes something truly terrifying. Her journey is filled with intense experiences, some that happen to her, and some she inflicts on others, especially those who have harmed her in the past. Please avoid this book if you find this description disturbing.

This story contains desperation born from poverty, selling one’s body for money, bigotry against fantasy races, and mentions of bodily harm for magical goals. Chapters with elevated levels of sexual content are labeled by their intensity as follows: Medium Heat Level, High Heat Level, and Dark Infernal Heat Level. Please use these guides to skip any content you do not feel ready for.

If you object to spit roasting, double and triple penetrations, monsters with more than one, huge insertions, extreme creampies, inflation, tentacles, bondage, fisting, dubcon, humiliation, body horror with sexual overtones, or a succubus revenge-pegging a guy with her tail, then this is not the book for you.

To all others, welcome. You’re in for a wild ride.

 

Enjoy a sample from INTO THE ARMS OF THE DEMON:

PROLOGUE

The underground storeroom was vast, dark, cool, and filled with the dry musk of ancient dust. A single handheld lantern cast wavering, luminous ribbons across the floor, cutting through gaps in rows upon endless rows of shelves that reached from floor to ceiling, their contents either pillaged or abandoned as worthless long ago.

Echoes of the storeroom’s former abundance remained: a rack of rusted swords here, several sealed barrels there. The man raised his lantern as he swept past the barrels, one hand reaching toward them, fingers not quite brushing their dusty, web-encrusted surfaces.

Tattered threads of the original Preservation spells remained, and the barrels had been constructed well. The water inside would be crisp and clean, should he desire to slake his thirst, and indeed he saw evidence a similar event had happened years ago. The spigot at the base of one barrel had been opened and its contents emptied, though the stones underneath were dry.

A party of adventurers, perhaps? Using the storeroom to top off their supplies before moving on, though clearly not caring enough to close the spigot.

And why would they? These ruins had stood empty for the better part of two centuries and had been picked clean by scholars and fortune seekers alike many times over. There was nothing of value left within these once-storied halls.

Or so everyone had been led to believe.

The man’s name was Vyran, and he treaded assuredly down the storeroom’s aisles, eyes alert, lips curled with the smallest hint of a smile. The appointed time had finally arrived, and now he moved with clarity of purpose to fulfill his mistress’ final order.

He struck an attractive, if somewhat imposing figure: tall and broad-shouldered with the planes and contours of his muscles apparent under his long-sleeved shirt, the top three buttons loose beneath the neck to expose more of his bronzed skin. The lantern’s light flickered within the depths of his rich brown eyes and caught the edges of sharp cheekbones and his strong jaw. His tough boots thudded with each long stride across the stone, the only noise in this dead ruin from a dead empire.

He reached the end of the aisle and studied the disturbed stack of crates. A flicker of apprehension shot through him. One of the crates lay open on the floor, its multitude of forks, knives, and metal plates spilled haphazardly across the ground. Another crate had been pried open, its sides cracked, and he raised his lantern to inspect the contents.
This one contained nothing more remarkable than thick-stemmed candles, their wax browned with extreme age.

Vyran drew in a deep breath. So far, he’d seen no signs his mistress’ plan had failed. He found a hook mounted to the wall, hung the lantern, then began to search the stack. He located the correct crate soon enough, recognizing it by the small, innocuous N etched into the side. Anyone else would have passed the marking off as a trio of scuffs or scratches, but he knew how to identify the signs left by his mistress. They’d led him this far.

The crate had been stored at the bottom of a tall, heavy stack. He donned a pair of tough leather gloves, then spent several minutes shifting the boxes around until he’d uncovered the one with the N.

The containers, though often heavier than him, provided little challenge, and he found the mild exercise refreshing rather than taxing. He cleared a space in the aisle, then dragged the marked crate into the lantern light before wiping the dust and cobwebs from his gloves.

Vyran hesitated, staring down upon the object of his search with a mix of elation and trepidation. The top was far cleaner than most surfaces within the storeroom, thanks to being buried beneath all that worthless junk.

He knew its placement had been intentional, just as the choice of this particular storeroom had been no accident. The true prize of this dungeon hadn’t been stored in a vault, surrounded by traps and monsters, or sealed behind powerful arcane barriers. No, it had been hidden within a plain crate stashed underneath cutlery and candles. Why would anyone look here, even if they knew to look in the first place?

The location itself had been a part of his mistress’ elaborate ruse. Surely an outpost overrun by the High Alliance in the early days of the war—and subsequently abandoned as its armies marched onward—would be the last place anyone would look for something so valuable.

His mistress had meticulously considered every detail, and while she’d shared most of her machinations, even he hadn’t been privy to the full scope of her designs. That thought irked him to some degree, though he understood the necessity. What if his own resting place had been discovered? What if he’d been captured and coerced into revealing his mistress’ secrets?

He would never do so willingly; he would rather give his life than betray her, but the freedom of choice wasn’t always an option, and the mind-twisting power of a High Alliance inquisitor was a terrifying thing to behold.

Or had been, once long ago.

Time had reduced his mistress’ greatest enemies to old tales, fading memories, and history lessons.

Just as she’d intended.

Vyran dropped to his knees slowly, almost reverently. An adult woman would struggle to fit inside the crate, knees tucked tightly against her chest, and his mistress had suffered this indignity for centuries.

No more, he thought. Now is the time for us to rise again.

He placed a hand atop the crate and cast Inspect.

The contents unfolded within his mind.

A woman crammed within a box.

A corpse, remarkably well-preserved.

His pulse quickened, though he’d known to expect this. Inspect was a second circle spell, and because of its basic nature, its ability to tease out an object’s secrets was limited. The line between life and death was thin, and the side on which the thread resided could be difficult to discern at times, especially if that thread rested almost directly on top of the threshold.

As his mistress had “lived” for so very, very long.

Vyran closed his eyes, rested both hands atop the crate, and cast Scrutinize, a fifth circle spell.

There, he thought. A pulse. Slow. Remarkably slow. Maybe one beat a day, with breathing paced to match.

His mistress was alive, protected by an astoundingly complex weave of Stasis, one too intricate to have been created by any of her subjects.

He sighed with genuine relief. He’d fretted over this moment for ten long years, but it had been worth it. It had all been worth it.

He took hold of one edge of the crate’s top. Unlike the explorers before him, he had no need for a pry bar, and he ripped the top off with brute strength alone.

Lantern light shone upon his mistress. She was naked, eschewing any finery or artifacts that could be used to identify her. Her disguise was that of a corpse, buried in a strange place and lacking any decay, but the Preservation spells saturating this place could be blamed for the latter.

Her knees were tucked underneath her chin, arms wrapped around her shins, fingers knitted. Her hair was long and brown and her skin pale almost to the point of being gray. He touched the side of her bare hip, and the chill of her body shocked him, though he’d known to expect this as well.

She appeared just as she’d intended: a corpse in an unexpected place. A mystery, though one most adventurers would ignore given the lack of worthwhile loot nearby.
“Finally.” Vyran let out a long, relieved exhale. “The time for your return has come, Your Majesty.”

He slipped his arms into the box, then lifted her out of it, cradling her with one arm across her back and the other slung underneath her knees.

The woman was perfectly still, her flesh cold against his.

He retrieved the lantern and left the storeroom, cradling Nix Kal’Plaarea in his arms—ruler of the once and future Infernal Empire and the most powerful succubus who’d ever lived.

***

Vyran brought the hibernating demoness to a grand, dark hall with a high ceiling where the tattered remains of battle banners hung, their faded ends covered in cobwebs. Broken debris from a huge, rectangular table and dozens of chairs cluttered the floor alongside pieces of stone fallen from the ceiling and walls.

He placed the lantern on the floor, then used a restrained application of Force Blast to clear the ground, kicking up unwanted dust clouds in the process. He let out an abrupt sneeze, then cast Telekinesis on one of the banners and yanked it down with a mental tug.
It hung in the air, folding itself several times over.

He draped the rectangle of folded banner across the clean patch of stone before placing Nix on top. He raised her head and doubled over one end of the banner to serve as her pillow. It wasn’t much. He wasn’t sure how aware she was after such a long hibernation—he certainly didn’t remember a thing from his!—but affording her even this small show of respect was important to him.

Because without her, there was no empire.

His eyes drank in her nakedness, starting with her delicate oval face, then across her firm breasts, past the roundness of her hips and down her long, shapely legs.

A hunger rose deep within him.

A yearning that had nothing to do with food.

He repressed these base urges; he had a duty to perform—entrusted to him and him alone—and he would see it through.

He stood up beside her, then closed his eyes and spread his hands to either side. 
His silhouette morphed, backlit by the lantern, shoulders broadening to strain against his shirt. The lines of his face transformed from merely attractive to dashing, his ears elongated into prominent points, and his locks shifted from a deep brown to a silken white.

Twin dark horns grew out of his forehead, stretching back over his scalp then up in elegant S-shaped curves that ended in sharp points. The horns resembled angular black crystal, and the lantern light gleamed off them.

He opened golden eyes with thin, vertical pupils. They glowed with faint bioluminescence as he gazed down at his mistress once more. She would be ravenous when she awoke, and his lifeforce would serve as the banquet to break her fast.

He pulled his shirt off, revealing his broad chest and defined abdominals. A pair of expansive, batlike wings grew out of his naked back, the webbing between each digit dark but sheer enough for the veins to be backlit. A long, smooth, muscular tail uncoiled from his tailbone, its flattened tip resembling the point of a spear.

He brushed aside an errant strand of her long brunette locks, then knelt beside her cross-legged. He rested both hands loosely atop his knees and drew his attention away from the material, instead focusing on the ethereal: the arcane power thrumming within him, the broken echoes of dead magics wafting through the hall.

And the tentative ember of life glowing faintly within Nix’s chest.

An ember that would soon blaze once more.

He cast a subtle version of Dispel, and his magic loosened the bonds of Stasis permeating her body. Her chest rose fractionally with a slow inhale, and he permitted himself a thin smile.

He proceeded with his next incantation—again Dispel, but this time with more punch behind it. He chipped away at her magical hibernation, one layer at a time, rousing her fractionally with each casting. The Stasis weakened. He could have shattered the spell with a thought, but the effect would have been like dousing her with a bucket of ice water. Instead, he proceeded slowly. Cautiously.

With patient care.

His mistress deserved nothing less.

“Mm,” Nix murmured—more a breath than a word, but a far greater sign of life than there’d been a minute earlier.

He finished unraveling the Stasis and switched to Gifted Essence, drawing up his own lifeforce to replenish hers. The act wasn’t ideal—demonic essence was poor nourishment to another demon—but his mistress was so weak it hardly mattered.

Nix stirred with another long exhale, her eyes closed as she began to change.

Her silhouette morphed from attractive to voluptuous as her hips rounded and her breasts grew in size and firmness. The lines of her face became jaw-droppingly gorgeous, her ears elongated, her long locks shifted from brunette to a soft shade of lilac, and with each shift her exhalations eased to contented breaths, then sighs—then an outright moan.
Twin white horns sprouted from either side of her head, curving up and back in again until straightening upward to end in high, sharp points. The horns resembled angular, milky crystal, and with their emergence came that other most succubus of traits. She shifted before him, sultrily pressing her thighs together in the manner of someone who ached to be filled.

Well. He couldn’t give her that right now, but what he could grant her, he would.
He fed her more of his life’s essence, and she reached down between her legs until her fingers found the swollen clit above her glistening folds. Her mouth parted in a soundless cry, and her back arched in the highest of pleasures—pleasure he was glad to grant her, if not in a conventional manner. Grand wings webbed in dark purple burst from her back, and a violet tail slinked out between her legs. He cast Gifted Essence a third time, and fresh energy surged through her body.

She opened her eyes, revealing twin slitted pools of luminous magenta.

“Lord Vyran.” She smiled sweetly and reached toward him. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Welcome back, Your Majesty.” He took her hand and kissed her delicate knuckles.

***

Nix Kal’Plaarea gazed out across the moonlit landscape, hands resting on a broken parapet. Vyran came alongside her, sharing the view from high atop one of several towers that connected with the dungeon’s depths.

A strong, warm wind cut across the tower’s octagonal top, and a distant gust sent ripples of shimmering darkness across the rolling grasslands. The silvery highlights upon distant clouds told Vyran the brewing storm would soon reach them.
But enough time remained for his mistress to behold her domain.

Such as it was these days.

“What year is it?” Nix asked.

“Eleven ninety-two, Post Crossing.”

“Two hundred years have passed.” She nodded solemnly.

She’d retained her full succubus form, no longer requiring the human guise she’d assumed for her long hibernation. She stood bare-chested with expansive wings folded behind her back, her crystalline horns glimmering in the low light. Vyran had offered her clothes he’d brought in his pack, sized just for her, but she’d refused them, instead choosing to indulge in the sensuality and raw feminine power of her resurrected form.

“Two hundred years to the day,” he clarified.

“And you’ve been active for the last ten?”

“In precise accordance with your orders. I’ve spent that time evaluating the state of your empire.”

“Its ruins, you mean.” She took in the view somberly.

“As you say, Your Majesty.”

“What of the heroes who defeated us?”

“Dead. Most of them from old age.”

“And the High Alliance?”

“Broke apart long ago.” Vyran favored her with a crafty smile. “As you predicted.”

“The humans?”

“The humans. Or, more specifically, the discontent between them and the other races. It seems once we demons were no longer a threat, the friction within the Alliance grew to the point where unity could no longer be sustained. What followed is a bit of a muddled mess. It’s difficult to say who’s to blame for which infraction—it all depends on which history book you read—but in general, the humans saw an opportunity to expand, and their neighbors took exception to their ambitions. 

“Conflict followed, along with several outright wars that eventually saw humans take their place atop the new pecking order. The elves were the first to break away from the High Alliance, and they fought the first and bloodiest war against the humans. Humanity, more or less unified under the Protectorate of Man, has never forgiven them.”

“Humans have always been tribal by nature,” Nix said. “Their societies function best when their energies can be directed at a common enemy. Deprive them of that enemy and they’ll find another. They have to. Otherwise, they’ll turn their attentions inward in a desperate search for something to oppose. My prediction wasn’t a difficult one to make.”

The Empress without an Empire closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The air grew warmer and more humid by the second. Lightning flashed across distant clouds, and peals of thunder reached their ears.

“What of our fates?” she asked after a while. “What do people believe became of us?”
“Most assume us dead.”

“‘Most’?”

“Those who remember us at all. It has been two hundred years. The war between the Infernal Empire and the High Alliance has taken on a vague, almost mythological quality. A golden age of chivalry and adventure as the races united to face down the ‘Empress of Lust.’”

Nix sniffed at the name.

“Regardless, Your Majesty, most history books conclude you died in the final assault on Nekra’Stol.”

“Then Ryleen succeeded.” Nix’s gaze grew distant. Her delicate features hardened, and Vyran understood why.

Lady Ryleen. Battle Queen Brilliance.

One of Nix’s succubus sisters, and the final one to fall in that dreadful war.

Vyran had spent ten years coming to terms with their deaths. To Nix, it had only been a few days, and as the silence between them dragged on, Vyran placed his hand atop hers.
“It was her choice to sacrifice herself so that you could live.”

“So that we could live.” Nix turned her hand over and squeezed. “And yes, it was her choice. The plan wouldn’t have worked without her sacrifice. Without proof we were ‘dead.’ Someone had to stay behind. Someone who possessed sufficient power to fake our presence in the final battle.”

“And Ryleen volunteered for that role.”

“Of course, it would have been her.” Her voice grew soft. “She was always the stubborn one.”

“If it helps at all, the history books record that ‘we’ exacted a horrendous toll on the enemy before falling in battle.”

“I would expect nothing less from her. From any of my Battle Queens.”

They watched the encroaching storm together. Fat droplets began to splatter around them.

“We must turn our attention to the future if we’re to survive this new age,” Nix said, her voice now firm. “I’ll need to study the intelligence you’ve collected.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I brought a selection of reports with me in anticipation of this request.”

“Excellent.” She rested a hand on his forearm. “We’ll move cautiously for now. Careful, but not timid. I intend for us to rebuild our strength and, eventually, to reclaim our rightful place in the world. There’s much work to be done, and in order to begin, we’ll need a base of operations. Should I assume you’ve given this requirement some thought?”

"You assume correctly. I believe I’ve located a suitable location.”

“Not here, I hope.” She swept a hand toward the other broken towers in the distance.

“No. Sadly, this dungeon’s spirit is long dead, but Xai’Stol is a different matter.”

Nix raised an eyebrow. Xai’Stol had been one of the Empire’s largest subterranean fortresses.

“The High Alliance never discovered the lower levels,” Vyran explained. “They were too busy pressing on toward Nekra’Stol to perform a more thorough survey, and after you ‘fell in battle’ … well, it’s safe to say they lost interest. The levels they did find they reduced to rubble, but everything below that should be more or less intact. Furthermore, while the dungeon spirit has been dormant for centuries, I believe he can be roused. There may even be a few lesser demons lurking within his depths.”

“Xai’Stol.” Nix nodded thoughtfully. “The High Alliance town of Al’Kurtos wasn’t far from there, though I’m sure much has changed. I’ll need to see a recent map. Are there any cities near the dungeon these days?”

“Several noteworthy ones within a week’s travel, including the sprawling city of Al’Kurtos, which has grown so large it now includes what was once Al’Hemmet. It’s one of the largest cities within the Protectorate, second only to their capital. The area features dominant human majorities with a smattering of other races living as second-class citizens.”

“Fertile ground for our needs, then.”

“My lady?” Vyran raised an eyebrow.

“The High Alliance is no more, and the heroes who defeated us are dead. You and I are almost assuredly the last of our kind. Do you believe for an instant I intend for us to remain this way when we possess the power to create more?”

Vyran’s heart skipped a beat. He’d wished for this, even expected it, but to hear his deepest desire voiced by the Empress was another thing entirely.

“We’ll not squander the gift Ryleen and the other Battle Queens bought for us through pain and blood,” she continued. “We must—and we will—rebuild our forces. But in order to do that, we’ll need recruits. One to start with; a woman with the right potential.” Nix faced him with a vicious gleam in her eyes. “I’ll see to the dungeon’s reawakening, while you search the nearby cities for a suitable candidate.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.” Vyran smiled knowingly. “You may leave this task in my capable hands.”

Thunder forked across a black sky, clouds crossed in front of the bright moon, and the two demons ducked inside as the rain picked up.