“What if I wish to stay in Hellebore?” I struggled to hold his gaze, tentatively adding, “With you.” Florian’s brows lowered. “There is no wishing required, butterfly.” He laughed, incredulous, then glowered and tightened his hold on my chin. “With me is where you will always be.” “Plotting and scheming,” I breathed, my smile trembling. “Plotting and scheming,” he repeated.
