Release Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
King of the Titans by J.K. Jones
Revenge.
Resentment. Malevolence. Desire. It wraps around him like a familiar cloak.
Like a second skin. Years of war hardened his heart into something unfathomable. For centuries he knew nothing but retribution and the ruthlessness of death and decay. His clan lost the war. They were decimated, their way of life stripped and sold to the highest bidder.
Now he finally has a chance to take back everything he lost.
To kill the King of Titans, assassin Julian White pretends to be a courtesan.
Falling in love with Lucious Rex, the man that tortured and killed his family is an unfortunate complication.
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The arctic demon. A tumultuous mane of blond hair and blond freckles on skin that was as white as a new page. He was a dream from an Icelandic gem, born of the green lands and wheatfields. A demon at best and a wayward barbarian at worst. A stark killer feared by everyone in the Titan Vale.
And he wasn’t fucking here.
Julian clenched his teeth, strumming the chords with his eyes closed in fake rapture. Damn him. After all the work they had gone through, it had been all for nothing. The song slowed, trailing off like a raging fire simmering into ambers.
The soldiers looked stricken, their gazes wide, enchanted, as Julian stood from his seat and gave a short, stiff bow. They applauded him immensely, showering him with praise and admiration. Julian swallowed the shouts as he would hot coals.
Thankfully, it was over now.
Brushing his pants, which were simple and wide, stretching to his bound shoes, he stood there for a moment. The shoes were made from a pretty rare fur cloth but were otherwise an ordinary design. He grabbed his animal skin jacket and draped it over his white long-sleeve shirt, which stopped right above his narrow waist. The sleeves were lightly decorated, reminiscent of his time as a jarl before everything had come crashing down around them. The rectangular neckline revealed his pale skin, plunging toward his firm chest.
Let them look. Julian took off to the bar, ignoring the numerous eyes that followed him. He drowned three shots, relishing in the burn down his throat. Footsteps creaked behind him. Then a hand clasped around his biceps.
“Not tonight, Julian.”
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