The Dagger and the Flame (The City of Fantome, #1)

by Catherine Doyle

Take only what your cloak can carry, and your conscience can bear.

He was tall and lithe, dressed in dark trousers and a loose blue shirt. His skin was golden tan, and his silver hair was slicked back, revealing a straight nose and strong cheekbones.

BOOOOO. *thumbs down* PASS!

She looked up, past that broad chest and strong, stubbled chin, to a generous sweep of black hair and eyes the color of autumn leaves, flickering somewhere between green and gold. She didn’t know if it was the lilting lullaby, the sheer towering height of this stranger, or the way those autumn eyes were looking at her, but she felt suddenly dazed.

HELLO. Yes. THIS IS WHAT MO WANTS.

She had already made a prize fool of herself, ogling him like an oil painting.

Girl, me first get behind me

Bored of their provincial life in the mountains,

Hokay there, Belle, you're doing too much

Now, the Dagger was just a man. She was a flame.

When the world is at its darkest, we must reach bravely through the shadows to find where the light blooms. Lucille Versini, SAINT OF SCHOLARS

Ransom. The Dagger’s name was Ransom. Living, breathing, seething Ransom. What the hell kind of a name was Ransom?

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY

Can I interest you in this charming bouquet? They’re dead, like your soul. Another laugh, echoing through the night. Impossible, surely. His reply hurtled straight through her open window, the shadow slung with such speed and precision, it knocked over the flowers. She caught the vase before it shattered. Somehow, you’re even more annoying in cursive.

Cuties

Come, my darling, Bastian. We’ve been waiting for you. She smiled as she uttered his name, the one he had surrendered nearly ten years ago on the banks of the Verne.

Ok I hate that name more

He hummed in response, then turned slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm. Sera’s heart stuttered. His lips were cool, but the soft touch of them against her damp skin lit a fire inside her that devoured all thought.

OMG?

The monsters bow to the power of Lightfire. Become the flame and destroy the dark, Seraphine.

He couldn’t stop replaying those final aching moments… The gentle caress of her hand against his cheek, how her trembling breath had feathered his skin, her mouth so close, he could almost taste her. He would not sleep easy tonight. Or perhaps ever again.

He's in looove

“No shit,” said Val, taking another swig of brandy. “He wants to screw her.” Sera nearly spat her drink out. “You’re drunk, Val,” said Theo flatly. “Look at her,” said Val, smirking. “Damp as a river rat and still drop-dead distracting. You know I’m right.”

Loool

“She was always a story to me. An untouchable… A legend.” Her voice was small, frightened. “I just wasn’t expecting this… feeling.”

She a reincarnation?

He dipped his chin, his lips brushing against her ear. “If you want to kiss me, just say so.”

She caressed the shadow-mark along his thumb, then lifted it to her mouth. “Thank you for helping me.” “Go,” he said again, his eyes softening.

“You came back,” she called out. He cocked his head. “After that kiss, did you really think I could stay away?”

She made her tongue work, forcing the words out before shame got the better of her. “Because Gaspard Dufort is my father.”

MOTHERFUCKER?

“You secured a fucking tomb,” spat Seraphine. “Lie down and die in it.”

*standing ovation*

Ransom but as night swept in and her eyelids grew heavy, her thoughts betrayed her. She was haunted by the agony in his eyes, and that final press of his lips against her palm. Seraphine, go.