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Faith Jones Herakles, The Royal Palace, Planet Alera
“I had s*x with a bad guy. A really bad guy.” I moaned, ran my hand through my tangled hair. The sheet I’d been wrapped in when I arrived lay in a crumpled heap by the bedpost in my sister’s royal bedchamber. Seeing it was a reminder. Of him.
I kicked it in frustration, narrowly missed stubbing my bare toes on the large wooden frame of the bed. The fabric smelled like Lord Thordis Jax, the s*x-on-a-stick, sexy as hell, too damn good looking for his own good, male claiming to be my mate. The Aleran rotting in my sister’s dungeon—well, technically, it was my dungeon too—right now for trying to have her kidnapped and killed. The male Trinity believed had betrayed the entire family.
And I wanted him again anyway. I felt achy. Needy.
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