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a pretty boy with pretty words.
“This is my wife, Layla.”
“Every girl deserves something equally as pretty and deadly as they are,”
“Paedyn,” the sound of my name from his lips cuts me off, “the ladies do love me.” And with a wink, he turns and strides out of the alley.
Perhaps I’ll relieve him of one of his hands, so he never has the opportunity to lay it on a woman again.
“Mark my words, Prince, I will be your undoing.” I lean in, ignoring the knife against my throat as I murmur, “Oh, darling, I look forward to it.”
“Oh, darling, as long as you still think I’m pretty, I don’t give a damn what I look like.”
“Remind me to make you smile like that again, when you aren’t dying, and I have all the time in the world to memorize it.”
Oh, why can’t I hate it?
“What do you want to call me?” “I want to call you mine.”
