Savage Prince_An Anti-Heroes Collection Novel Read online

  Savage Prince

  An Anti-Heroes Collection Novel

  Meghan March


  Savage Prince

  Don’t miss out!

  Also by Meghan March

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Preview of Ruthless King

  About the Author

  Also by Meghan March

  Savage Prince

  Book One of the Savage Trilogy

  Meghan March

  Copyright © 2018 by Meghan March LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Editor: Pam Berehulke

  Bulletproof Editing

  Cover design: @ Letitia Hassar

  R.B.A. Designs

  Cover photo: @ Weston Carls

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Visit my website at

  Created with Vellum

  Don’t miss out!

  Would you like to read my USA Today bestselling book for free and meet another hot alpha?

  Click here to sign up for my newsletter and claim your free book!

  Want to be the first to know about upcoming sales and new releases?

  Follow me on BookBub!

  I’d love to hear from you. Connect with me at:


  Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

  Also by Meghan March

  Savage Trilogy

  Savage Prince

  Iron Princess

  Rogue Royalty

  Mount trilogy:

  Ruthless King

  Defiant Queen

  Sinful Empire


  Take Me Back

  Bad Judgment

  Beneath Series:

  Beneath This Mask

  Beneath This Ink

  Beneath These Chains

  Beneath These Scars

  Beneath These Lies

  Beneath These Shadows

  Beneath The Truth

  Flash Bang Series:

  Flash Bang

  Hard Charger

  Dirty Billionaire Trilogy:

  Dirty Billionaire

  Dirty Pleasures

  Dirty Together

  Dirty Girl Duet:

  Dirty Girl

  Dirty Love

  Real Duet:

  Real Good Man

  Real Good Love

  Real Dirty Duet:

  Real Dirty

  Real Sexy

  About This Book

  Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.

  I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.

  I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me. Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.

  My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.

  But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.

  I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.

  Hopefully, it doesn’t kill us both.

  Savage Prince is the first book of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King; however, you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot story.

  Chapter 1


  Why is he wearing a mask?

  Instinctively, I take a step back as the heavy door swings open, revealing the rest of the doorman’s tall body and the other half of the ornate red-and-black leather mask obscuring his face.

  It’s not Mardi Gras season anymore, and this antebellum mansion is dozens of miles away from Bourbon Street, where spirits are high and revelry is in full swing, no matter the time of year.

  Louisiana, you’re beautiful, but you’re also creepy as hell at night sometimes.

  The doorman gestures for me to enter, and I hesitate on the threshold for one final beat, clutching my bag to my side before stepping through the archway. He closes the massive wooden door behind me with a decisive thud and throws a long bolt.

  I’m locked in. What did I get myself into?

  Chills skate over my skin, and my blazer does little to stop the shiver working through me.

  This is not a haunted house. Or a dungeon. It’s a potential customer. I tell my overactive imagination to calm down but blood pounds in my ears, competing with the slow, rhythmic, and visceral beat of the bass coming from somewhere inside.

  The sprawling plantation house reminds me of something out of a movie, especially with its massive trees dangling their moss over the banks of the bayou. Mansions and their expensive everything make me more nervous than the gators lurking in that murky water.

  My senses shift into high gear as I scan the polished wooden planks of the floor, covered by thick rugs that probably cost more than I make in a year. The muted glow of gaslight sconces adds to the otherworldly feel—at complete odds with the throbbing beat of the club music.

  For the dozenth time, I wish I did more research before I showed up for this meeting, but I’ve been so busy, I can barely manage to shovel three bites of food into my mouth for lunch.

  It’s worth it, I remind myself. I have a respectable job now. There’s no mud on the bottom of my shoes to track inside these days.

  Even though I know I’m in the right place, my polished designer knock-off pumps itch to beat a path to the door and out to my car . . . except it’s not there, because the overly efficient valet drove it away before the front door even opened.

  I swallow back a lump of unease but straighten my shoulders and turn my attention to the doorman, who seems to be waiting for me to compose myself.

  When I meet his hooded stare, he doesn’t speak. I hold out the note that showed up on my desk at Seven Sinners. He takes it from me and glances at the printed text, but still says nothing.