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Fate was her summer sun—too intense for most to bear, while she tipped toward him like a flower, craving his touch.
Passion made people forget themselves. It kept them from feeling the change of seasons upon their skin or curling their toes into the grass. Passion stole their health. It made both time and families slip away as people lost themselves to their pursuits.
“I am not the only one in this world who matters, my love.” Fate’s fingers curled against her waist. “You are to me.”
“She is my wife. You have taken from me everything that I’ve ever cherished, and I have never stood in your way. I have never asked you for anything. But I am asking you now, brother, to make an exception. You cannot take her from me.”
And as her husband sealed his bargain with Death, he turned toward Life and promised, “I will not lose you.” But he already had.
IT’S SAID THAT THE WISTERIA VINE IS A SYMBOL OF IMMORTALITY.
“Hello, love.” Aris may have whispered the words, but his voice was a weapon that slipped through Blythe’s skin and struck to the hilt. “I hoped you wouldn’t make it.” She squeezed his hand, forcing her own smile onto a face she hoped looked half as vicious as his. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, my darling. Though do feel free to divorce me tomorrow.”
Leave it to the girl in love with Death to be optimistic about Blythe being bound to Fate.
“But that was never meant to happen for my daughter. I would sooner have died a thousand deaths than have put that on you.”
“Perhaps you were ready to die, but should we have a million more lifetimes, I still would not be ready to let you go.”
“Do not make yourself small. Do not change yourself to suit him. Teach him how to treat you, and remember that you deserve everything this life has to offer.”
think it wants us to stay together.”
“What do I care? Take the life of this devilish girl if you’d like. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll be unburdened by the plague of her existence.”
“Burn as brightly as the sun if you wish, Aris, but I will not look away.”
“Civility, remember?” Aris sighed as he kicked his feet up, spun sideways in his chair. “You can’t be angry when we’ve only just formed a truce.”
“Where do you learn these things?” “Books,”
“Be still, Sweetbrier.”
“And what if you do find her and she no longer feels the same? What if she doesn’t remember you, or has fallen in love with someone else?” Aris needed no time to ponder this. “Then I will hope that her next life will be one that favors me.”
“Speak one more word to my wife,” Aris growled, “and I will tear your tongue from your throat.”
Burn was too casual a word, for Blythe did not burn for this man; she incinerated.
He would spend every minute plucking the stars from the sky to deliver a bouquet of constellations if that’s what it took to please her.
“He will stay here,” he said as a veil of quiet befell them. “He could have the entire world in the palm of his hand if he wanted it, but he chooses confirmed happiness rather than the gamble. Fear will stop him from taking a risk,
For years I have felt bitterness toward every soul who bows to their fear. And yet I now find myself ruled by my own. You have bewitched me, Sweetbrier, and for that I am terrified.”
“I want to be undone by you.”
“Your quality is slipping, brother. This is hideous,” Death noted
Blythe was the first person who Aris burned for since Mila, and Blythe deserved more.
Aris wondered now whether it was her soul that he felt pulsing on the other end of the ring. That’s what they were, after all—two souls infinitely bound.
“Hello, Percy.”
I KNEW IT
Elijah Hawthorne arrived at Wisteria’s doorstep every morning without fail.
“He is why you’re still here with us, isn’t he?” he asked, weeping as he held her so tight that Blythe was not convinced he’d ever let go. “He is who I have to thank.”
“You have every right to be angry,” he told her. “You have every right to be sad, or to be anything in between. But you’re going to be all right, Blythe.”
Twenty-seven years had passed since the death of Aris Dryden, and still Blythe wore her wedding ring. The band of light beneath it, however, had not shone since the night of his death.
“Hello, Sweetbrier.” He took her chin in his hand, and between her lips Aris whispered, “I’ve finally found you.”
