Cruel Pain of Desire by T.M. Smith

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SKU 978-0-3695-1549-0
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Expected release date is 25th Sep 2026
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The Winged Assassin Series, 3

He should have killed her.

Instead, he locked her away… and lost his heart.

Remiel is a Feard assassin, bound by duty and addicted to pain. Darya is a Soul Sucker fighting her own darkness. When she becomes the prime suspect in a series of deadly attacks, the safest place for her might be in the arms of her enemy.

Trapped together, their fragile truce gives way to undeniable passion—but secrets from Remi’s past and Darya’s hidden powers threaten to tear them apart.

As an ancient rebellion rises and a powerful enemy drains life from those Darya loves, she must risk everything to stop a war that could ignite worlds… even if it means sacrificing herself—and the assassin she’s come to love.

 

Excerpt:

Remi scrubbed a hand over his short, spiky-cut hair, which was nearly the color of his bronze wings. He glanced up from his plate, a broad, cocky, dimpled smile on his parted lips. He probably read her admiring gaze.

Darya had focused on her career in recent years. She’d made little time for dating. And nothing had gone well when she’d accepted a dinner invitation. The guy was too soft. He was too aggressive. He was too boring. He was too edgy. No matter what the man was like, Darya rejected him. Yet here she was, seeking sanctuary with Remi, the man she should most want to avoid. He was too hardened, too bloodthirsty. Wasn’t it funny that she chose him for those very reasons?

She didn’t gloss over the fact that her sisters had married—no mated—Feard assassins. Darya did not believe in fate. She was the architect of her own destiny. Still, something had brought the three assassins and sisters together. But why would fate, which she didn’t believe in, pair her with Remi, the least likely candidate for her affections? She might find him attractive, but he was not date or husband material. She would not be the third sister to fall into someone else’s trap.

Done with breakfast, Remi shifted his position on the sofa. He crossed an ankle over its opposite knee and lazed against the cushions, his arms flung over the back. Why did he have to expose so much tanned flesh? Couldn’t he slip on a shirt to hide the thick slabs of muscle on his chest? And sitting as he was, his biceps appeared huge. Her eyes crawled up to his thick neck, determined jaw, and sharp cheekbones. She’d swoon, but he was arrogant enough without her blatant adoration.

While she analyzed him, he canted his head to the side, staring at her through narrowed eyes.

Darya’s voice caught in her throat at the magnificent sight of the man. “I’m sorry I told you I wanted to taste your emotions. I thought you wanted the truth.”

“I did. I didn’t expect it to be such a turn-on.” He pointed to the arousal poking his pants.

“Everything with you comes back to sex.”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” His voice was lower, rougher than before. Remi kept watching her as if she might leap out of her chair and try to drain all his emotions.

“I have enough control not to give in to my urges,” she assured him.

“You think? You confessed to memory lapses where you have no idea what you did. Speaking of sucking, I couldn’t interest you in coming over here, dropping to your knees, and latching onto something of my choosing?”

The skin above her nose wrinkled. “Absolutely not.”

Untrue. She’d love to.

Darya must not have shown her indecisiveness because he laughed and uncrossed his ankle from his knee, putting his bare feet on the floor. “Didn’t think so.”

“You need to find out if I’m the Soul Sucker doing the damage.”

He paused the movie. Flashing off the couch faster than she could track, he loomed over her, bare chest and all. “How will I do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should let me out and then follow me.”

“Like a detective or something? Sam Spade?”

“I don’t know Sam Spade.”

“Humphrey Bogart? Maltese Falcon? Never mind. No. Chasing clues is not my gig. I’m built for killing. More my speed.”

“Please, I need to know.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want to know. All you need is to be trapped in my apartment.”

“Forever?”

“Just until we find the Scourge responsible.”

“So you don’t think I did it?”

He swiped a hand across his short, military-cut hair. “I don’t fucking know, Darya. I’m trying to sound positive about the whole shitstorm.” Remi stomped out of the room. “I gotta get the fuck outta here.”

Okay. She was a head case. And the overgrown man who was her appointed jailer was popping muscles, sexual vibes, brutality, and good looks.

Enough with the self-warnings. Her job was to sit on her ass here until she was proved guilty or until another perp was found. In the meantime, she’d keep her eyes closed so that she didn’t feast on Remi.

“Easy peasy,” said her inner child.

Series:
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