Honey, Does This Taste Like Poison To You?
I've never been a fan of murder. The mess, the smell, the whole hiding the body thing after - it always seemed like way too much work. But trust me, when you're married to Richard Morningstar, that "work" starts to feel an awful lot like "play". The man is a snake and king of the fairies.
A barbarian. A war monger. A sex god. Uh, I mean a...an ex pod? Doesn't matter.
The point is, it's either him or me. Because one of us is going to die, and at the moment, it's my execution scheduled in three weeks. So I just have to figure out a way to kiss him - kill him - before then, take his throne, and turn his whole nightmarish kingdom upside down. Easy right?
Maybe - if he wasn't my lifemate.
And if my panties didn't drop every time he snapped his stupid fingers.
