Read Emily McIntire's ‘Hexed’ Book Excerpt, See Title Debut

No one does dark romance fairy tales like Emily McIntire. Since the beginning of the Never After series with Hooked, she taken those fun stories that we grew up with and turned them into new contemporary books that we have basically devoured like no other. And now the countdown is almost over because the next release is almost here and trust us when we say, it was so worth the wait.

Cosmopolitan can exclusively reveal that Emily McIntire's next Never After book, Hexed, is coming and oh, did we mention that it's going to be taking one of the most iconic stories, The Little Mermaid, and putting on her dark romance spin on it. She heard you when you said that you were hoping that this would be the next one and now she is absolutely going to deliver. And while we can't spoil everything before it's big release on November 5, 2024, here's a little that you can expect thanks to our friends over at Bloom Books:

He’s the prince of La Cosa Nostra. She’s the witch who steals his heart. From USA Today bestselling author Emily McIntire comes a dark and delicious fractured fairy tale reimagining of The Little Mermaid.

And while the wait might almost be over, we can't just leave you without one last surprise! You can check out the first official excerpt below and, just a warning, you're going to want so much more as soon as you finish reading.

An Excerpt From Hexed
By Emily McIntire

Goddamn.

She’s unhinged in a visceral type of way that makes her ruthlessness look like art, and I’m hypnotized by the sight of her.

I’ve always known I was depraved, but it’s not until this very moment I see how deep that depravity runs, because watching Venesa cut off someone’s hands has me realizing that violence does, in fact, turn me on.

It was hard for me to not intervene after the man wouldn’t stop disrespecting her, but I’m glad she stepped in when she did, because I probably would have lost control and killed him, and that would raise too many issues back home.

In the Cosa Nostra, you’re not allowed to kill freely. There’s a system in place, one that’s been there since the old country, and it works for a reason. The boss—in this case, my father—gives his approval on every single contracted hit. Unsanctioned killings just don’t happen, and if they do, there are usually grave consequences, meaning a bullet in the back of the head. Me being the underboss doesn’t change that fact, and neither does being in a different state with different people.

There’s a code. An honor system.

It freaks me out how quickly I would have let all that slip away because I couldn’t control my emotions around how someone treating her like trash.

I glance over.

Venesa’s breathing heavily, arms at her sides and the meat cleaver she just used on the man dangling from her fingers. There are blood spatters decorating her skin and a pool of red beneath the guy’s sawed-off hands, leaking over the side of the table and onto the concrete floors. He’s passed out, most likely from the stonefish venom she injected him with earlier, and my eyes flicker back and forth between her and the gruesome scene.

“Well, now he definitely won’t say anything,” I joke.

Her lips twitch and she sighs, her shoulders relaxing. “He will.”

I nod, kicking off the wall and taking a few steps toward her. “So, what now?”

“Now, I inject him with the anti-venom so he doesn’t die, and I call Bas to make sure our little thief here tells him everything he knows.”

“He’ll get him to talk?”

Venesa nods, and a few strands of her icy white-blond hair fall onto her forehead. She swipes them away with the back of her hand, leaving behind a smear of red. “He always does.”

There’s a small rolling table at her side with two glass bottles and a couple of syringes, and she picks up one of each, flipping the bottle upside down and inserting the needle’s tip until the liquid moves into the empty tube. Then she injects it into the man’s hand, right between his first two fingers, the same way she originally injected the poison.

Watching her question him felt oddly carnal, like I was witnessing her purge the blackest parts of her soul. It was invigorating, and something I’ve never experienced before. Intimate in a toxic type of way, her darkness enabling my own and making it vibrate beneath my skin, desperate to come out and play.

She walks toward the door and gestures for me to follow. “You coming, Loverboy?”

I’m not sure where we’re headed, but after what just happened, I think I’d follow her anywhere.

Anywhereends up being out of the basement of the Lair and up a narrow spiral staircase that leads to her studio apartment.

Right now, she’s in her bathroom with the door wide open, standing in front of a small porcelain sink, gripping the edges, her hair draping over the sides of her face like a cloak while she regulates her breathing.

I don’t say anything, just lean against the doorframe with my arms crossed and watch her reflection, those dark irises swirling as she stares down at her hands.

“You okay?” I ask.

Her gaze flicks up to mine. “Yeah, fine. You just…weren’t supposed to see that.”

She reaches forward and turns on the faucet.

I take a step, and then another one, putting our bodies so close I can feel the adrenaline bleeding off her skin and sinking into mine.

Our eyes lock in the mirror.

“I’m glad that I did.”

She grins, those dimples of hers appearing and dotting the apples of her porcelain cheeks. “Why, so you can use it to blackmail me?”

What she’s saying isn’t necessarily wrong; it is beneficial for me to know things like this, but for some reason, her thinking that’s what I’ll do bothers me.

I move even closer, my heart kicking my chest when I brush against her.

Her breath hitches, and it pushes that phenomenal cleavage out in a way that has me biting back a curse, because fuck. Slowly, I reach around her until she’s caged in by my frame, the energy between us dancing like tiny electric shocks along my body.

But I make sure not to touch her.

I can’t touch her.

Instead, my hands surround hers on the edge of the sink, our pinkies centimeters away from meeting.

She looks down at them and shifts on her feet.

When she moves, her ass pushes into me, and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood. I exhale slowly, gritting my teeth so I don’t do something crazy like reach out and dig my fingers into the meat of her hips while I drop to my knees, rip off her skirt, and put my mouth on her cunt.

The visual alone…Christ.

Reaching up, I grab a hand towel from where it’s hanging on the wall, hyperaware of how she’s tracking my every movement. I swear it feels like she’s lighting me on fire, and it’s fucking torture because I can’t give in to the feeling, but I can’t make myself step away either.

I place the cloth under the running water, wishing the tepid temperature would douse the fervor blanketing the air, but I know better than to assume it will. Instead, we just exist in this vortex of energy until it’s physically painful to keep my body from falling into hers, and I have to remind myself that she’s more off-limits to me than any other woman in the world.

When I take the damp fabric and move it to her right hand, wiping away the specks of blood dotting her skin in slow, methodical motions, my stomach tightens with every pass.

“What are you doing?” Venesa asks in a hushed tone.

“Helping,” I manage to reply, although my voice comes out so low and raspy, I’m not positive she hears me.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” I snap, squeezing my eyes shut. “Just…stop talking.”

When I look at her again, she’s staring at me through the mirror, biting the lower corner of that plump red lip, and my heart jumps into my throat, because fuck if I don’t want to know what that feels like—what it tastes like to have her mouth beneath my teeth.

My hand shoots out and grips her hip as I spin her around.

Off-limits.

Her ass bumps into the sink and I lean in close, making her breasts press against me. It’s barely even a graze, but my heart backflips and dives like it’s careening off a cliff anyway. I swallow and pray she can’t feel how wildly it’s beating.

Bringing the towel up to her cheek, I wipe away the specks of blood that dot her face like splatters of paint on canvas.

That’s what she is to me: a work of art.

I wish like hell she wasn’t.

Her hand flies to my wrist, holding me in place.

She blows out a shaky breath, and I suck in every tremble, over and over, our mouths so close that the heat of her lips warms mine. But I don’t bridge that last millimeter of space; instead, I swim in the torture of almost-touching, convincing myself that if I try, almost will be enough.

Pain radiates up my cheek from how tightly I’m clenching my jaw, and I use it to ground me. To distract me from how badly I want to swing her around, bend her over, and sink so deep inside of her I drown.

Off-limits.

Finally, I manage to tear myself away, ripping my hand from her hip and dropping the washcloth in the basin.

“All done,” I murmur.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair. “I should go.”

She glances at me from under her long, dark lashes, and lust scorches through my chest and up my throat until my mouth runs dry. I take a giant step back and then another, pulling at the collar of my shirt, because when the fuck did it get so hard to breathe?

Whirling around, I walk away.

“See ya later, Loverboy,” she calls to my back.

I’m in the room again and on her before I can think twice, pushing her until she’s flush against the sink, and I lean down so my lips skim along the shell of her ear.

“It’s Enzo.”

And then I turn around and leave before I’ll do something that both of us will regret.

Because it isn’t her I’m supposed to want.

Hexed, by Emily McIntire, will be released on November 5, 2024. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:

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