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September 18 - October 5, 2024
“Tragically, meddling is my profession,” Raegan returned, matching his tone. “If you’d like me to stop, I’m afraid you’ll need to offer me a deal.”
This clever fucking bitch! 😂😂
“Is this not beauty?” the King asked, his tone genuine, at least as far as she could tell. “Old roots were cut to the bone here, and yet they reemerge, defiant. Is there anything more beautiful than defiance, than survival? It is the most ancient song and perhaps the sweetest.”
And then the laughter dried up in her throat as she watched him: the petals, the arch, the black cloth, the snow, the door, the black cloak. She had seen this before, a thousand times before, endlessly rooted in this same spot, no snow or petal touching her skin, no door opening at her touch, forever abandoned in the desiccated garden like a rotted-out husk. “Oberon,” she murmured, the name tumbling out of her mouth like a stolen jewel. The ancient thing in the three-piece suit tilted his head, his features stark, and then something in the line of his powerful shoulders softened. “Steady,” he
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The way these moments keep happening are truely cinematic. I can see it all moving in slow motion but my heart is racing.
“Is it enshrined somewhere in Fey code that you have to be an absolute dick all the time?” Raegan demanded, taking a few stumbling steps toward him.
“Why the fuck didn’t you do that the first time when I was vomiting in a random trash can?” she spat, anger bubbling over inside her. The King shrugged his broad shoulders. “I did not wish it.”
“Honestly yeah, maintaining a human body is a stupid amount of work.”
she liked making him laugh, and she was probably going to try to do it again, despite her better judgment.
“Stop looking upon me like that.” Raegan’s face burned with a blaze of heat, and her mind went white with panic. “Like what?” she scoffed unconvincingly. The King turned to face her, folding the letter with slow movements and placing it back on the desk. “Like you are . . . imagining,”
“Presumptuous,” she replied, voice thick with condescension, having recovered herself. She crossed her arms and arched a brow at him, the very picture of scorn. One stride carried the King to the front of his desk, where he also folded his arms, leaning back against the antique piece of furniture. He crossed one long leg over the other and cocked his head at her. “Are you ill again?” he asked in a tone so perfectly innocent Raegan had trouble believing it was leaving his lips. “Your face is quite red.” “Would you like to continue wasting your precious time flirting with me, or do you want to
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I’m squealing!!
some kind of Fey fuckery,
Now this is my favorite thing ever!
“Ordinally, I would simply request that you wait here,” the King began, his eyes narrowing. “But I imagine you would be incapable of stopping yourself from rifling through my correspondence and belongings.” “That is incredibly rude,” Raegan replied, offended, crossing her arms, “and entirely correct.”
slowly. “Is this some kind of a trick?” He looked at her long and hard; she could read nothing in his expression. “I imagine I would not tell you if it were,” he finally answered. “Reassuring,” Raegan replied, coming to a halt on the other side of the desk, still a good pace or two from the King and the door. “Must I again remind you that I do not have all day?” he inquired, one brow arching. She shot him a look full of long-suffering irritation, once again wishing to pummel his impossibly beautiful, terrifyingly feral face. “After you,” Raegan said, gesturing for the King to lead the way. The
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I’m so obsessed!!
For a moment, something about his voice saying her name stirred a memory in the very back of her mind, like the fragment of a dream, but it withered nearly as soon as it had bloomed.
“We’ve been here before,” Raegan said before she could stop herself, jarred by the prospect of such a thought. The King met her gaze as he glowered down at her. His brows drew together, face tight with clear distaste. “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “We have only just become acquainted.” “You’re wrong,” she protested, panic rising in her throat. “Why would you say such a thing?”
Why is he LYING!! What does he have to lose!!
“Drink,” he said, pointing to the teacup. “You said if I sat down, you would tell me,” Raegan replied, slamming a fist on the chair’s arm. “So fucking tell me.” Moving as quickly as a serpent’s strike, the King reached across her, snatched the teacup from the table, and shoved it into her face, all without spilling a drop. “Drink,” he repeated, as if dealing with a bratty child. “The tea contains herbs—expensive and difficult to obtain, mind you—that will assist your recovery.”
Both these two are stubborn bitches
Raegan grabbed the teacup from him and hurled it at the opposite wall.
“I will ask nicely one more time,” Raegan snarled, leaning forward, her nose nearly brushing his. “Give me what I want. Tell me what happened.” The King tilted his head slightly to the side, and she no longer saw anger in his expression; instead, something dangerously close to desire slithered onto his features. One side of his impossibly beautiful mouth curved, sending a shower of sparks through her chest.
She knew against all reason that his kiss was a key, the feel of his skin a portal, and that his body against hers would be her final absolution and her greatest sin.
“Men are not usually my thing, so that sounds like bullshit,” Raegan said, her face red, mortified that her emotions and thoughts were apparently splattered across a canvas for all to see instead of properly bottled up and stored out of sight. She turned to look at him, summoning as much disdain as she could. But the King met her gaze evenly, with no judgment or mocking in his eyes. “And I am not a man,” he replied.
He has to know her intimately to know she says then when she needs to calm herself
Somewhere behind her in the parking lot, perhaps from the window of a car or a passing boom box, Raegan heard a beautiful song soar through the air, the notes moving in a fiercely triumphant crescendo so powerful that tears pricked the back of her eyes.
Fate?
To her surprise and horror, the King threw his head back and laughed,
“I apologize,” the King told her, his laughter ceasing, “for laughing at you. I found your expression very amusing.”
With all her might, Raegan fought to calm the panic rising in her throat, begging every deity she knew for two things: to find her father safe and unharmed, and to squash the small, strange part of her that ached unreasonably for the King.
“The Unseelie King let you use Nyx’s glass?” the seer demanded, her eyes widening. “And permits you to address him so informally?”
🤭
Then Cordelia placed a quill and ink in front of Raegan. The feather was silver, almost metallic in appearance, and the little pot of ink was a similar shade of pearlescent gray. She raised her gaze, looking at the seer for instruction.
Okay.. thought:
What if Oberon doesn’t know he knows her either. What if everything he’s done has been instinctual bc they do have a past but that knowledge of each other has been wiped clean??
She threw another glance over her shoulder, searching the dim hallway for the King. They had come so far together—would he not see this through? And more importantly, could she see it through without that silent, unwavering presence at her side? She felt as though she were going into battle having just lost a limb.
WHERE TF IS HE?
But her very essence called out for him, just as it always had and likely always would. Now that she had finally found her dark and terrible king once more, she had no desire to let him go.
“Despite his bluster, I hardly believe him capable of leaving you behind.”
but Cordelia tightened her grip on Raegan’s hand, took a running step across the threshold, and dragged Raegan into the waiting darkness with her.
BITCH... consent is important!!
“If there is indeed an Unrequited Prophecy that names the King and me, and it’s Unrequited because no one’s realized it was talking about us, how old would it need to be?” The Keeper considered, his lantern swinging as he picked up the pace slightly, as if talk of Prophecies without being near them made his hands itch. “At least a thousand years, I’d imagine,” he said finally, ducking into another tight twist of the staircase.
SO WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!
Is this confirming they or she keeps reincarnating
Raegan like a tide, and she shot into a sprint, tucking the jar into the crook of one elbow, palm flat against the glass. She was not running from anything. She was running toward something. Toward someone. Up ahead, a shadow cut through all the blue, tall and angular and waiting, as always. Tears
“We have done this so many times,” the King said, gaze meeting hers, long strides carrying him closer. “No more.”
ahhhh!!! He does know! He remembers!!!
“It is your choice. Know that I will follow you to the ends of the Earth,” the King murmured, head tilted as his eyes searched hers. “But we have done this a thousand times, and I never like the ending.”
What’s the ending….
THE MAEVE OF THIRTEEN FROM O’ER THE HILL—NOT
SHE WILL WALK THE IN-BETWEEN BESIDE THE EXILED KING.
“AND SO THE GATES SHALL FALL.”
“The Protectorate managed to capture me,” the King said, drawing out each word like an arrow from a quiver, “because of you.”
“Overhill is not a key,” the King replied, his voice a thunderstorm rolling across the horizon. “She is a person. I will not have you speak of her as if she is some tool to be tinkered with.”
Oh my god YES!!! I’ve been waiting for this level of protection !!
“And answers,” he added, his tone gentler. “I believe some answers are owed. I would have rather avoided this entirely, but that moment has passed.”
Do not make the mistake of threatening what is mine.”
The way I SQUEALED!!
Something feral and sharp-toothed uncoiled in Raegan’s core,
Not for the sake of empty violence but because she was his and he was hers and any blood spilled would be in her name.
Instead, what bid her heart to race and her head to spin was the King disentangling his arm from hers to place an open palm against the small of her back.
The King’s breath caught in his throat, and she fought the urge to slam her mouth against his.
Oh please fucking do
“We are going to see if you are telling the truth,” he replied, making eye contact with her as he began to roll his shirt sleeves back down, “or if you are going to die tonight.”
Seems to be worth quite a bit of trouble 😮💨😮💨😊
The King made a low sound of consideration from somewhere deep in his chest that did not help dissuade Raegan from wanting him to slam her into a wall and fuck her as hard as he could.
“Let us stay focused on what is to come, not what has already passed,”
Raegan followed him with skeptical, tender steps, a hidden part of her wishing they were ducking into the shadows for another reason entirely.
“You have my consent to touch me for this specific situation and only to aid your knowledge of reaching my apartment in the safest way possible considering the threat of the Protectorate,” Raegan finally replied, raising her gaze to his. Even in the dark, she found his storm-gray eyes with ease. “But I retain the right to revoke that consent at any time.” A flash of white—a smile, she realized—and then she felt the King step in closer to her. “Well done,” he murmured, a rumble in his chest. Then his large, powerful hands were upon her. Raegan suppressed the roll of pleasure
