Dark Oz

by Geneva Monroe

This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever needed to hear, “You are more than the sum of what has been done to you.”

I always loved a good tragedy.” “Not me. Give me a romance any day, the filthy kind where the smart-mouthed heroine gets railed by three guys at once.” “Ooo, and make one of them covered in tattoos with a tragic backstory.”

Now I understood the woman who never flinched and met me blow for blow. She wasn’t a princess at all. Dorothy was a fucking queen, looking to reclaim her kingdom in the name of everything she’d had stripped from her.

Death was never a rider on a pale horse. It was a woman bathed in firelight, her hair glowing a brutal shade of red that reminded me of the poppy fields of my childhood. Not the rainbow flowers of Oz, but the crimson ones of home.

In just a few short days, we’d be arriving at the glittering heart of Oz.

Before long, Nick’s father had planted tracts of poppy fields. Unlike back in Italy, here they grew in the wildest, most beautiful array of colors. Nick and I spent hours that first summer playing in the rainbow fields.

“Sleep, Firecracker. You can go back to fighting the world in the morning, and when you wake up, I’ll be right here to fight it with you.”

Some men gave flowers. I would give my girl revenge.

I braced the sides of the lion’s head tattoo in much the same way as the large hands bracing my waist. I should have expected that. I asked the lion to lay with me; why should I be surprised when he makes me his dinner?

“The damage may seem slight, but you’ve carried that pain for so long you barely feel it anymore. You might have become stronger, but that doesn’t make it weigh less.”