Title: All Shot to Hell (Sin Demons #3)
Author: Harper A. Brooks & Mila Young
Genre: Paranormal Reverse Harem
Editor: Dara Horcasitas
Cover Designer: Phoenix Premade Designs
Publication Date: February 25th, 2021
Playing devil's advocate with three demons? There's no way I am ever going to win.
Things were finally going right for us. We got the relics back. We defeated the dragon. I thought weâd won. But weâve ended up losing so much moreâ¦
Cainâs severely wounded, and I donât know how to save him. Losing him shouldnât bother me, but it does. A lot.
Elias and Dorian have a plan: seek out help from people who wield the darkest and cruelest of magic. We soon find that the only one with enough power to bring the Prince of Hell back from death is a master of death itself. But nothing can be done for free and the price has us traveling across the world and facing a slew of new dangers, ones none of us are prepared for.
Even with everything shot to hell, the demons remain a constant temptation I donât need. Being with them only seems to fan the flames, but letting me go depends on finding all of Hellâs relics.
And if Iâm being honest, Iâm not sure what Iâll do once my soul is freed.
Harper A. Brooks lives in a small town on the New Jersey shore. Even though classic authors have always filled her bookshelves, she finds her writing muse drawn to the dark, magical, and romantic. But when she isn't creating entire worlds with sexy shifters or legendary love stories, you can find her either with a good cup of coffee in hand or at home snuggling with her furry, four-legged son, Sammy.
She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance.
RONE Award Winner
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
International Bestselling Author
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Bestselling Author, Mila Young tackles everything with the zeal and bravado of the fairytale heroes she grew up reading about. She slays monsters, real and imaginary, like there's no tomorrow. By day she rocks a keyboard as a marketing extraordinaire. At night she battles with her mighty pen-sword, creating fairytale retellings, and sexy ever after tales. In her spare time, she loves pretending she's a mighty warrior, cuddling up with her cats, and devouring every fantasy tale she can get her pinkies on.
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Seconds feel like hours. My chest is wound so tight, every breath in is needle sharp and painful but I canât move. Canât even think straight as I stare at Cainâs slumped body and his blood darkening the ground around him.
Before I could fully process what was happening, Dorianâs arms wrap around me and heâs lifting me off the ground. Weâre running through the shipment yard so fast, the frigid cold air bites at my face and ears. Fear crawls through my chest as the distance between us and Cain grows. Thereâs no way we could just leave him.
âElias has him,â Dorian says as if reading my thoughts, and at that second, Elias appears around a metal container, racing after us with Cain in his arms.
When we make it to the Town Car, Dorian opens the back door and then the front. âYouâre going to have to sit on my lap for this drive, little girl.â
Iâm still having a hard time finding my voice, so I only nod. He slides into the front seat near the driver and pulls me in close. Right then, Elias appears and lays Cain into the back seat, only to climb inside after him.
The door isnât even closed when Dorian barks at the driver, âStep on it, Holmes.â And as if the older manâs dealt with situations like this before, he punches the gas pedal and we speed away.
Peeking over Dorianâs shoulder and into the back seat, I gasp in horror. Cainâs wounds look even worse this close. His skin is ghostly pale from the bloodloss, almost translucent, and his eyes are closed. I stare at his chest for any movement to hint that he could be alive but see none.
âIs-Is he breathing?â I ask, my voice coming out in a fearful squeak.
Dorian guides my face to look at him instead. âHeâs going to be okay.â
But even I can hear the slight waver to his words. He isnât so sure either.
Elias and Dorian exchange weighted looks, and my stomach sinks. Losing Cain just isnât an option. It isnât.
With his hands firmly on my hips, Dorian twists me to face forward again. âWe are almost home,â he says to me as if all we need is to step one foot in the mansion and Cain would be right-as-rain again. As if itâs that simple.
âItâs comingâ¦ Itâs comingâ¦â a soft voice sings.
I glance down at the box in my hands, almost forgetting I was even holding it still. It vibrates in my grasp, and the relicsâ eerie and muted song wafts through its seal and lock.
Since no one else has reacted to the sad drum beat or creepy lyrics, it seems only I can hear the strange music, like before. I lean in closer.
âItâs comingâ¦ Comingâ¦ Comingâ¦â
Coming? Whatâs coming? I donât understand.
As if understanding my thoughts, the relics continue their singing. âDeathâ¦ Deathâ¦ Deathâ¦â
Icy cold dread snakes up my spine.
Are they talking about Cain?