Ruthless Vows (Letters of Enchantment, #2)

by Rebecca Ross

She slept but she didn’t dream. She swallowed but she couldn’t taste.

torn between the typewriter that had reminded him of his name and the one that reminded him that he was alive.

And how I would love to be on my knees before you now, surrendering to you and you alone.

and Iris noticed how Forest looked at Sarah. It was soft and frequent and very attentive. It reminded Iris of how Roman had once looked at her, and she felt both happy and sad. A strange, bittersweet medley that brought tears to her eyes.

He envisioned Iris typing by candlelight, as if she were his gravity.

He wondered how many mundane things hid magic, or perhaps it was better to think of it as how much magic liked being married to the ordinary. To simplicity and comfort and overlooked details.

And then, because he was an utter fool for her, he bumped her foot beneath the table. That brought her gaze back to him.

I will be here for one night only before I must return to my post. One night, and I would like to spend it with you.

P.S. A final note written by my future self, because I know I will be feeling this as I walk away from you: gods, you looked gorgeous at tea. I would like to take you to all the places you love most in the city, and then beyond. Think about them. Make me a list. We’ll go anywhere you want to. We’ll go together when the war is over.

But was she truly surrendering if she was staying alive? If she only gave him her hands?

and the city felt like it was balancing on the edge of a knife, waiting to see which way it would fall.

Every wall, every person in the room seemed to lean toward him, like he was a whirlpool. A collapsed star. The center of gravity.

And that, he had come to realize, was when his best words emerged. When he was with her.