I’d been called special before, but usually the tone indicated that my kind of special was a physical hazard to others. Yael and Leden weren’t talking about that kind of special, though. Their words made my heart a little light and my knees a little weak.

“You have more power against us than any other being in the worlds. It’s almost scary the things we would do for you, Willa.”

Women are not stupid. That’s why they outlasted us. While men destroyed each other with hydrogen bombs and wars, Mother Nature took care of the rest, sterilizing what was left of the already dwindling male population.

Logan has returned to Roter Himmel. Once a peaceful haven for the Royals, it is now a kingdom of chaos and distrust. The people may love their queen, but she has never ruled them on her own.
Sevan has seen Cyrus work miracles long ago, and learned his methods herself. His curse has sustained stronger than death before but the visage of Cyrus’ demise is undeniable. Still, Logan refuses to believe this is the end. Cyrus keeps appearing to her in strange dreams, rambling that she must prepare—that the day is coming when night will rule the day.
While the entire world of vampires watches, Logan will take on the weight of the crown, the certainty of impending change, and the threat of war.
They all should have known better than to test her. She’s had multiple lifetimes to prepare for this…
All hail the Queen.

Author Bio:
Keary Taylor is the USA TODAY bestselling author of over twenty novels. She grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she started creating imaginary worlds and daring characters who always fell in love. She now splits her time between a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest and Utah, with her husband and their two children. She continues to have an overactive imagination that frequently keeps her up at night.

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Pestilence, his crown perched upon his brow. War, with his steel blade held high. Famine, a scythe and scales at hand. And Death, blighted Death, his dark wings folded at his back, a torch of bilious smoke tight in his grip. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, come to claim the earth and lay waste to the mortals that dwelled within it.

“I am not here to please your every whim.” Pestilence’s voice is steady, unfeeling. “I am here to end the world.”

In our embrace, there is no fear or uncertainty. There is only peace and overwhelming pride, and we bask in this second, this simple moment of our beautiful lives.

Shit, he cares more than anyone, and when people need him to be their everything, he is always there. But it only makes me want to be there for him. Every time. Every day. Twice as hard. Ten times as much.

Hell, I see them as different sides of my boyfriend: Connor is mental. He taught Maximoff intelligence, emotional restraint and confidence. Lo is emotional, the sarcastic, loving and empathetic pieces of him. And then Ryke is physical, all determination and stubbornness and unshakeable strength.

They’re likely trying to detect a lie or spot the manipulative web the evil vagina is weaving.

“Says the guy who is centuries old. You could be my great grandparents’ great grandparent.” I grin as I add, “Burn.” More groans. Damn it, I thought that one was awesome. “It’s a good thing we don’t need your help insulting people,” Ezekiel says, patting my shoulder a little patronizingly.