Wickedly Yours (Witches of Pleasant Grove, #2)

by Jennifer Chipman

For all the girls who want a six and a half foot tall winged man to swoop in and tell them that they’re fated mates. (Me too.)

Let’s pumpkin spice things up a bit,

She cared about him. And wasn’t that the most dangerous thing of all?

That way, I didn’t think about the dreams haunting my sleep—the vision of those golden eyes that I just couldn’t shake off.

But mostly, deep down, the feeling that something was missing in my life.

Secretly, I thrived in the night. I always felt like I had my best ideas when the moon was still high in the sky. Like it somehow called to me. To the magic in my veins.

I tried not to think about my dream from last night. The one that always started the same way. A flash of dark hair. Golden eyes. Mighty wings that unfurled in front of me. A palace that I was sure I’d never seen before.

She would sit on the throne next to mine, wearing the crown I had made for her, my ring on her finger.

Her loyalty is just as important as her place by your side.”

I didn’t need love. I’d learned that a long time ago. Love would only hurt you.

I’d waited centuries for her, and even in the darkest of days, I’d known that the knowledge of her was too tempting a fantasy to fall into. To let myself bathe in her light was more than I could ever hope for.

I craved the connection. Craved intimacy.

He looked directly at me, those dark eyes—almost black—practically peering into my soul. “I think I did.”

She was light. Pure, unfettered light. How could I tarnish that with my darkness?