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June 18 - June 23, 2025
She started to pull herself up with one hand on the edge of the desk, but the boss gripped either side of her waist and lifted her before she could protest.
Then her bow-shaped lips pulled into a wide smile, and suddenly the pain in his face was nothing compared to the fist squeezing his chest.
It had nothing to do with wanting her to be comfortable. Nothing at all.
A sudden, small squeak came out of her, sounding suspiciously like a sneeze. She looked up at him sheepishly. He was a puddle on the floor, and every speck of dust in that room was his enemy.
An accurate depiction in Evie’s eyes, since a good book often felt like the same comfort as the heat of sunlight brushing your cheeks.
His knees nearly gave out when he felt her thumb stroke, just once, over the back of his hand.
But he was so happy to see her. What an obscene, unnecessary emotion, but there it was. He was happy… How positively vile.
“Kill him?” “Is that your solution to every problem?” she asked, exasperated. “No, it’s just the most effective.”
He didn’t feel ruined with Evie, though. He felt reborn.
There was a mischievous tilt to her mouth, a maniacal satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. He had a wild thought of getting a hundred more of those hideous depictions of him hung around the room, just to keep seeing that look on her face.
Trystan felt his palms itch with the need to touch her, which was absolutely unacceptable.
“She’s beautiful,” Sage said in awe. “She’s horrifying,” he corrected. Sage shrugged, eyes taking in every gruesome part of the guvre’s body. “Oftentimes, it’s the same thing.”
But then her smile faltered, her brows knitting together as she realized this dress might be what she was buried in if she wasn’t careful tonight. She sighed. At least it was sparkly.
It was never good to wish someone the same pain or discomfort you were feeling, but it was always very nice to not be alone with it.
He’d never been this sentimental, and it was all her fault.
The Villain was almost certain that if there had been an attempt made at conceiving with Sage, he would remember. Vividly.
“She’s taken,” he said flatly.
BRO Y IS HE SO FINE
She was breathing fast. “You ruined my dress.” “I’ll buy you another,” he said, slowly bringing his arms up farther to circle her warmth,
The Villain came to an unbidden realization then, so completely tragic that his mind tried to reject the words. But they were there, so plainly it was almost comical. He was in love with her.
But he did love her. It wasn’t a question or even a sudden realization. He’d known, hadn’t he? He’d known from the moment she’d called him pretty.
She wasn’t light; she was color. Every single one, dancing otherworldly and bright over his unworthy eyes. She was the explosion of the vivid gleams and glows of the world around him, like a constant rainbow, shining not after the rain but during.
She was everything he never deserved but longed for anyway.
He was ruined. But he loved her anyway.
but he was not a man prone to easily trusting anyone. Except Sage.
Trystan seemed to be chronically accompanied by a headache lately, and the one person who helped to relieve that symptom had gone home for the day.
He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, finally settling them on his thighs. Evie wouldn’t mind having her hands there as well. Focus, you absolute nincompoop.
she asked, hesitant, like she didn’t want to ask for more than he was willing to give. She didn’t realize everything he was already belonged to her.
His body, his power, settled in her presence. There and still deadly, but it welcomed her.
“Can we do this a little bit longer?” Evie asked, her lips nearly brushing against his neck again. Forever, he thought.
