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About the book:
Enemies-to-lovers…to unlikely allies…to frenemies with benefits…10/10 spice.
A horrible plague has swept the world.
Millions are sick. More are dying.
Except me. I'm immune.
I'm the only one well enough to defeat this plague and save my people.
Except one problem...
Kingsnake--King of Vampires--is intent on finding me. Without my people to feed on, he'll die. My blood is the only thing that will keep him alive.
He won't stop until he finds me.
Binds me.
And makes me his.
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Here is a snippet of the book:
Larisa
When I woke up, I devoured the dinner tray that had been left under the door. An hour later, another tray was delivered for breakfast, and I ate that too. Like an animal that had nothing tolive for except food, I waited for the next delivery and napped in between. There were books on the bookshelf, books that were written by humans, and that made me realize there had been a line of women that had occupied this room long before I did—and had all died since.
Days passed, and Kingsnake didn’t come for me.
He went through so much trouble to capture me, but now, he acted like I didn’t exist.
I knew that wouldn’t last long. He captured me for a reason—and he wanted a return on his investment.
What would I do when he came for me?
My sword and dagger had been taken. All I had were the items in the room with me. I could break down one of the bedposts and slam it into his head. Pick up the armchair and throw it at him. Slam a book on top of his head. But none of those things would kill him—just piss him off.
My thoughts were shattered when I heard the noticeable click of the lock.
Shit.
The door opened and he emerged—but he didn’t look the same.
His black armor engraved with serpents no longer covered his body. There was no tunic either. No cloak. In fact, he didn’t wear a shirt at all…
All he wore were trousers that seemed to be made of cotton, the kind of attire he wore in the privacy of his bedchambers when his presence wasn’t required elsewhere. That made me think it was evening, or rather his evening, which was morning.
Covered in lean muscles underneath tight skin and corded veins, his fair skin was marked with subtle scars. Some on his arms, some on his torso, a couple on his chest. He was ripped, the strong muscles shifting with the slight movements he made. Those slitted eyes were on me, dark like the bark of a tree after a morning rain. The intensity of his stare was a little terrifying because he didn’t need to blink—just like his snake.
I stepped back, putting as much distance between us as the bedroom would allow. All I had within reach was the book I’d been reading, so I held it at my side, ready to smash it on his head once he came close enough.
His eyes never left mine. “You must be as tired as I am.”
“I’ll never be too tired to fight.”
He stared at me a moment longer before he shut the door behind him.
