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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.”
“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.
“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.”
“Burn as brightly as the sun if you wish, Aris, but I will not look away.”
“Speak one more word to my wife,” Aris growled, “and I will tear your tongue from your throat.”
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.”
