I don’t know who hurt Seraphine, but I’d like to personally thank her for giving us To Serve My God—a razor-edged, emotionally unhinged romance that grabbed me by the collar, whispered “kneel,” and didn’t let go.
Listen up, heathens: This is not your soft, fluffy campus romance. This is a story about power, obsession, humiliation kink (with a twist), and the hauntingly slow undoing of two people pretending they don’t ache for each other. If you’re not ready to dive face-first into a psychological tug-of-war between a scholarship girl and a cold god of old money, then this is not your stop.
Here’s the official blurb (brace yourself):
Serenity has always been invisible. A scholarship student in the Ivory Spire, where wealth and pedigree dictate social standing, she has spent her years keeping her head down, balancing part-time work at a cosplay supply store with grueling academic expectations. But in her world of carefully measured steps and quiet sacrifices, there is one undeniable constant—Damon Laurent.
He is everything she isn't. Old money. Distant. Untouchable. And when she gathers the courage to approach him, offering herself up in a moment of reckless surrender, he does not refuse her. Not out of kindness, but because he sees her for what she is—a girl too low to be worth a second thought.
And yet, she stays...
YEAH. You read that right. Serenity volunteers as tribute and Damon just says, “Fine.” Like he’s accepting a new assistant instead of a whole human soul. 👀
But what starts as a one-sided devotional mess (think: maid outfit in public level devotion) gets...complicated. Dark. Beautifully unhinged. Damon’s mask starts to slip. And Serenity? She starts asking dangerous questions—like what happens when you stop being the shadow and start becoming the thing he can’t ignore?
🔥 SCORCHING EXCERPT TIME 🔥
"Let me follow you," she whispered.
He laughed. "You want to humiliate yourself for me?"
“Yes.”
"Fine," he said. "Do whatever you want."
That night, she placed the order for the maid outfit.
Chapter
1: The Offer
A
silk-threaded dream, that’s what he was.
A deity sculpted from privilege and
perfection, untouchable by human hands.
Serenity
had spent months orbiting Damon . Watching from across lecture halls, lingering
in his shadow like a specter yearning for warmth. He never looked at her—never
saw her. And perhaps that was why she loved him. Because he was a god, and she?
She was nothing.
“You’re
doing it again,” Amara sighed, elbowing her. “Stop staring at Damon like he’s a
golden idol. You know he doesn’t even date. He doesn’t care about
Valentine’s. Or anyone, really.”
“Maybe
he’s secretly in love with someone,” Elara mused, flicking through her phone.
“Like…a tragic heir to a fortune who can never love because his heart is locked
behind steel bars of apathy.”
Serenity
barely heard them. She was watching Damon rise from his seat, grace woven into
every movement. His voice—low, commanding—spoke to someone important, someone
of his world.
She wanted
to kneel at his feet.
The
thought burned like a brand. The need, the reverence—it swallowed her
whole.
And then,
by sheer cosmic absurdity, Damon turned his head and looked straight at her.
She
stopped breathing.
The next
few minutes blurred together. Words spilled from her lips before she could
swallow them. A plea wrapped in irrational devotion:
"Let
me follow you."
Damon had laughed.
A cruel, quiet sound. “You’re serious.”
She
nodded, pulse hammering.
“You want
to humiliate yourself for me?”
Her fingers
trembled at her sides. “Yes.”
A beat. A
flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. Then, amusement. “Fine,” he said.
“Do whatever you want.”
And just
like that, she was his.
That
night, she placed the order for the maid outfit.
Chapter
2: Beneath Him
Morning
light sliced through the windows, but Serenity had been awake long before dawn.
The first
day of servitude. The first day of her longest and most wonderful week.
Damon
barely acknowledged her presence at first. His strides were long, effortless,
and she had to hurry to keep up, her breath catching from the pace.
People
whispered. Look at her. What is she doing?
Damon’s
friends smirked at the sight of her trailing behind him like a shadow. Someone
from his social circle—Veronica Langley, a girl with diamond-polished nails and
a sharper tongue—leaned in, whispering something into his ear.
Damon
merely sipped his coffee.
“I don’t
think she’s normal,” Veronica said airily. “No sane girl would debase herself
like that.”
Serenity
didn’t flinch. Let them sneer. Let them laugh.
She was the one at Damon’s side.
Chapter
3: Feverish Reverence
The maid
outfit fit perfectly. A crisp black and white piece that cinched at the waist,
sleeves trimmed with lace. The headband settled into her hair like a crown.
She looked
exquisite.
She looked
ridiculous.
Damon’s
face was unreadable when she approached him in the courtyard. The laughter of
his friends cut through the air like blades.
“I see
you’ve gone completely insane,” he muttered.
Serenity
only curtsied.
For the
rest of the day, she remained a spectacle. A living, breathing absurdity in
ruffles and reverence.
Damon
tolerated it—until the library.
Serenity
had been shelving books when she felt it: the slow, creeping sensation of being
watched. Three girls. Them.
“Do you
think you belong here?” one sneered. “You think a freak like you can be near
someone like Damon?”
They
stepped closer. Serenity’s back hit the bookshelf.
Trapped.
A cruel
smile. “Why don’t we—”
Then, a
voice.
Low.
Dangerous.
“Touch
her, and I’ll make you regret it.”
Damon
stood at the entrance, his presence suffocating the air between them.
The girls
paled, retreating with murmured apologies and clumsily quick bows. Serenity’s
chest rose and fell with shallow, frantic breaths.
Damon’s
hand closed around her wrist, and suddenly, they were walking—no, he was dragging
her out.
She barely
registered the way he pulled her close, the way his grip was too tight, too
desperate.
It wasn’t
real. Couldn’t be real.
Because
gods did not care for their worshippers.
And yet,
when she looked up, Damon’s jaw was clenched, his breathing uneven.
She didn’t
understand what she saw in his eyes.
Perhaps—neither did he.
I GASPED. I CLUTCHED MY PEARLS. I ORDERED A DOUBLE ESPRESSO.
To Serve My God is about what happens when love becomes a form of surrender. When devotion starts looking a lot like war. When the boy on the pedestal starts falling—and takes you with him.
Tropes & Feels Checklist:
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✝️ Sub/Dom dynamics but make it emotional trauma
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🎓 College romance with a dark academia edge
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💰 Rich boy, poor girl—but she chooses to serve
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🧼 Public humiliation + whispered jealousy + maid outfits (!!!)
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💔 Emotional masochism and the slow burn of unspoken obsession
This story is NOT afraid to get messy. It's beautifully written, deeply psychological, and sharp as a diamond knife. Seraphine doesn't flinch—and neither will you.
✨ Support indie authors where you can. Read digitally, read widely, and may your fictional crushes be emotionally repressed and devastatingly rich.
💻 Grab To Serve My God Here:
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📚 Barnes & Noble: Buy on B&N
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🍎 Apple Books: Download on Apple
-
🛒 Amazon (Kindle): Get it on Amazon
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📚 Hoopla (Library Borrow): Borrow via Hoopla
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📖 Fable (Social Reading): Read on Fable
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📱 Everand (Scribd): Read on Everand
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📘 Kobo (ePub): Buy on Kobo
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🇩🇪 Thalia (Germany Readers): Shop on Thalia
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📖 Palace Marketplace (Library Access): Get via The Palace Project
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🌀 Smashwords: Buy on Smashwords
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