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He's a European prince with over a thousand-year-old lineage, and he hates her as much as he craves her-but which emotion will destroy them both? Alyssa: When I'm introduced to Prince Carl-Theodor Frederick Maximillian Christoph Albert Maria Johann Anselm 17th Prince of Saxony-Bremer and Lautenburg-Bornheim an-der-Elbe, I'm as breathless as his endless name. Something savage and dangerous twists inside me-a warning I should have heeded. Gorgeous and charming as he might be, I don't trust men like him, men who believe they're a superior species, who wield near-unlimited power with the casual arrogance of ancient nobility. Every instinct screams at me to keep away or risk being burnt to a cinder. It would be easier and safer to pretend his piercing gaze doesn't set my skin on fire. So I use my razor-sharp imagination to dream up the most creative insults, verbally eviscerating him and his precious family legacy. Meanwhile, I desperately try to avoid him-a futile effort that only makes the inevitable collision more explosive. Because he turns out to be utterly, devastatingly irresistible. He soon has me on my knees before him, which-God help me-is exactly where I've been fantasizing about being. But what twisted game is he playing? Prince Hot and Cold, arctic ice and molten lava, he literally brings me to the edge of beautiful insanity. The question is: will I survive the plunge? Prince Carl-Theodor of Saxony-Bremer: At first sight, Alyssa blinds me with her beauty-then she wrecks my entire existence like a derailed express train obliterating everything in its path. Never in my privileged life has anyone so boldly, so viciously insulted me or my ancestral bloodline. White-hot rage transfixes me, my wounded pride bleeding into my very soul like poison. Since my father's death, I am Head, Protector, and sacred Defender of the House of Saxony-Bremer-thirteen thousand years of noble blood courses through my veins. I absolutely will not endure hearing my family's honor slandered by this infuriating, intoxicating woman, then do nothing about it. I vow on my ancestors' graves to avenge my bloodline, to make her pay in exquisite detail for every vicious word that spilled from her perfect lips. I'll make her hurt. I'll make her beg. I'll make her taste her own bitter medicine until she's drowning in regret. But the twisted irony that threatens to unravel everything? Hurting her f*cking destroys me too. I can bend her to my will, break her spirit, watch her crumble-but once she's tamed, once her pain tears through the air like a wounded animal's cry, it reaches straight into my chest and stops my heart cold. Have I committed myself to a vow that will damn us both? And why does her surrender feel more like my own destruction? NOTE: This book has content for mature readers 18 and over.

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