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124 pages

English

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Description

A prince with a legacy of blood, a simple priest, an unstoppable romance in a world on the brink of civil war.

Dante, the Prince of Bloodeaters is in love with a human priest. Ten years ago, he threw his life to the wind in an effort to bring about change while escaping a fate he no longer wanted to face. One wintry night meeting John gave him a new purpose and drive as he joins him to live on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Lessons and promises made will lead Dante’s internal struggles to places he didn’t know he still had to face even now.

Viceroy Falco, Dante’s ex-lover and overseer of Glensdale and capitol city to The House, wants an army of bloodeaters at his command. Conspiracies are whispered about his involvement in the prince’s disappearance and the ailing king on the throne. Dante aims to stand in his way at every turn, but jealous and lust drive Falco to wanting more than just the magical dagger called The Fanged Lady. Though, there’s a cost as the Viceroy’s past abuse spurs Dante to action when his aim turns to Father John.

When Father John takes over the Glensdale church, he becomes a target for Falco’s sadistic games. John is stubborn and bullheaded, unwilling to bend or retreat. Angry with Dante’s decision to be his sword and shield with bruises and a bloodied lip to match. Aiming to find a solution for himself, Father John throw caution to the wind even if the cross branded on his back may lead to his death.

Dante is willing to sacrifice everything to keep Father John safe, and will he have to accept his position as Prince when the King falls ill?

This book is a great jump on a refreshing male male romance with fantasy elements. Swords, knights, vampires, plague, moody steeds, and more add to the center romance of two broody men madly in love with one another. Readers who enjoyed the chemistry and romance of The Captive Prince Trilogy by CS Pacat as well as the broody, vampire vibes from JR Ward’s The Black Dagger Brotherhood will enjoy reading this sizzling spin on vampire romances.

We invite you to share your favorite quotes and moments with #TeamJohn or #TeamDante or #TeamJonte!

Sujets

Fantastique

Romance fantastique

Bit-Lit

Romance

Romance contemporaine

Romance fantasy

Paranormal

Fiction

Vampires

Romance policière

Romance paranormale

Informations

Publié par	4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
Date de parution	26 octobre 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781644500637
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Table o f Contents
Daemon, Daimon , or Demon
Chapter 1
The F anged Lady
Chapter 2
The Old Farmer
Chapter 3
Learni ng to Farm
Chapter 4
John is Leaving
Chapter 5
The Lord Kni ght’s Gift
Chapter 6
Ten Years & Counting
Chapter 7
The Time Apart
Chapter 8
Rite of Priesthood
Chapter 9
Glensdale Cathedral
Chapter 10
Basque
Chapter 11
Game On
Chapter 12
Falling
Chapter 13
Br uised Ribs
Chapter 14
Ki ng Traibon
Chapter 15
The Wal l We Built
Chapter 16
Vows ar e Breaking
Chapter 17
Assass in’s Guild
Chapter 18
Truth in Harvesting
Chapter 19
Weight of O ne’s Heart
Chapter 20
Ruth ’s Message
Chapter 21
C onfessions
Chapter 22
Darkest Night of Winter
Chapter 23
Vice roy’s Game
Chapter 24
Breaki ng a Curse
Chapter 25
T he Madness
Chapter 26
Intern al Warfare
Chapter 27
Immortal Bloodeater
Chapter 28
B roken Vows
Mo re to Come
Traibon F amily Saga
About the Author
V .C. Willis

4 Horsemen Publicat ions, Inc.

The Prince’ s Priest
Copyright © 2020 V.C. Willis. All rights r eserved.

4 Horsemen Publicatio ns, Inc.
1497 Main St. S uite 169
Dunedin, FL 34698
4horsemenpublicat ions.com
info@4horsemenpublicat ions.com
Cover & Typesetting by Battle Goddess Pro ductions
Editor J.M. Paquette & Vanessa Valiente
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain per mission.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used ficti tiously.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20 22931310
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-644 50- 063-7
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-644 50-517-5
Print ISBN: 978-1-644 50-064-4
Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-644 50-362-1

Daemon, Daimon , or Demon
Pronunciation /`di ː m ə n/
1. a divinity, spirit, or supernatural being considered part god and p art human.
2. An inner, attendant, or guardian spirit; inspir ing force.
3. Ancient Greek and Latin for “godlike”, “powe r”, “fate”

Chapter 1
The F anged Lady
I gripped the silver dagger, La Dame d’Croc , tighter. Like droplets of blood across the blade, my eyes reflected my desire for its destruction. The ornate hilt’s laughing skulls and vines dug into my palm. With a tilt of the keen blade, a long-forgotten language made itself known. This was the tool for the rite of passage for the next generation of bloodeaters. It was my duty, the next in-line to be King of The Court, to protect it with my life. I didn’t care to inherit the wretc hed thing.
Tonight, in my honor, a masquerade party whispered from the lower levels of the manor. The sense of jubilation resonating from the guests was a growing friction of heat against my soul. I intended on ending the centuries-old tradition of bloodeating with my abdication from the throne. My father’s advisors would likely imprison me if they knew of my intentions. They would claim the pacifist daemons of The Court or even human ideals from The Tower were to blame. The truth was simpler. What little historical records survived amongst the royal library told me the story of betrayal and ascension to a never-ending civil war. The House had turned on those it promised to protect and devoured them for their power. Thus, the tradition of eating the blood of humans was born with the use of the magical blade in my hand—and I wanted nothing to d o with it.
“Are you not joining the celebration, Dante?” The voice belonged to Viceroy Falco, a sinister bastard who was also a revered war hero. “Ah, I see they handed the La Dame d’Croc over to you. Mmm, Fanged Lady, such a wonderful name for a blade.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that his lips were tight and a scornful flare in his eyes told me what I already knew. “I’m sorry my father didn’t hand it to you, Vicer oy Falco.”
By human standards, Viceroy Falco was in his mid-twenties, but he had been walking this world for at least two centuries. He fought in the front lines when the civil war reached a peak pressing for territory. They pushed The Court and its non-bloodeater daemons to the mountains over a hundred years ago. It was obnoxious how he towered over me, despite my superior ranking. He was broad-shouldered, carried a sword, and the white strands of his hair looming across his maroon eyes added to the deceitful atmosphere that never left him. With each step, Viceroy Falco’s armor clacked as the golden devils and chains knocked against the black lacquer of the ceremonial armor on his shoulder and chest. It was more of a fashion statement than practical for battle when he wore the black steel e quivalent.
“It’s only because you’re the King’s last surviving son,” he snorted, stepping closer to inspect the skulls on the hilt. “You are still too young and naïve to wield such a sacred artifact. A mistake, no offense, my dea r prince.”
“Twenty-eight is old in human terms.” It earned me a sneer, his fangs clenched as I covered the blade with its black silken cloth. “I’m old enough to know not to misplace this into the wrong hands.” He stiffened, feeling the verbal stabs aimed in his direction. “As its protector, no one is to touch it.”
Despite my age, I appeared to be nothing more than a young boy of eighteen. Besides the fangs hidden behind my lips, the ever-present maroon eyes of a daemon were the signs of what I was: not human. Earlier in the war, it’d been a malicious tactic to send out younger daemons to use their childlike appearances to infiltrate various noble households serving The Tower. Many hadn’t come home after being discovered, including a few cousins and a sister far before my conception. Daemons that young had no power, not yet come of age to join the ritual of the blade where cutting of flesh and their first feeding unlocked a lifetime of thirst.
The first blood must be taken from a cut brandished by La Dame d’Croc or the daemon faced the Madness, a curse which drove human and daemon into insanity of wanting to devour the meat of their fellow men and sometimes, themselves. When the Madness peaked, they would foam at the mouth, eyes rolled back in their heads, berserking until their hearts beat themselves to death. The magic ritual passed down to The House cleansed both vessels, bloodeater and prey, allowing the art to be feasible. Viceroy Falco had sent many humans and opposing daemons in battle into the Madness with relentless bites, earning him the title of Le Chien Enrag é or The Rabid Dog.
“Watch your words,” Viceroy Falco hissed. Turning on his heel, tugging his mask back on, he paused as if regaining his composure. “If I didn’t know better, you were accusing me of being a thie f, Dante.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Falco.” I didn’t fear the monster standing before me, my eyes hitting his own with knowing supremacy. “If I wanted, I could end your life here. We both know you’ve stolen enough from me, but you will not h ave this.”
“A lot of talk for a daemon who has fought one tiny battle and has yet to drink human blood.” Gripping his sword, he finished his warning for me, “I slayed armies of men before your conception. A day will come, and I will take what’s rightfu lly mine.”
“And I will be there to watch you fail.” I watched him march away, the sway of his fourteen-knot braid reflecting his position as a Viceroy.
“The scorned lover look doesn’t suit you, my dear prince.” Laughter rolled from him as he vanished down the hall.
I glared at my braid laying across my shoulder; sixteen knots marked me a prince of Glensdale, one of three kingdoms in Grandemere. Only Kings held eighteen knots and Queens seventeen. From there, the caste system continued, ending with the braidless servants and the bald shaven heads of slaves. Cutting one’s braid was distasteful, a sinful way of disrespecting your status and birthright, whether you served The House , The Court, or even The Tower and The Church . It had been this way for a long time among humans an d daemons.
I will not become one of them. I will not become the Blood Prince they expect me to be.
Tucking the dagger into my white leather tunic, I gripped the cold marble railing of the balcony. Looking down, it was two-stories high. Snow lay heavy across the ground and topiary. Winter was at its peak, the days more dark than light and the icy air a reminder of the harsh desires held by The House. With little effort, I hoisted myself over the railing, falling through the freezing bite of the wind. Landing in silence, I peered at the lights and shadows from the nearby ballroom. A great weight was lifting, and with no remorse, I surged into the forest, leaving nothing but the shattered mask of a Prince in the snow.

Chapter 2
The Old Farmer
D eafened by my thoughts, I sat there on the wet boulder for hours. The ancient mountain forest encased me, tall and dark, the embodiment of solitude. Flurries started to fall, and I lost sight of the glow from the city braziers. I traveled far beyond the territory of The House , well into the sacred grounds of the Old Farmer, a forbidden place