My Dark Beast: a Sleeping Beauty retelling (Wicked Retellings Book 1)

by Olivia Wildenstein

Whatever she picks, she ends up with me, the god of her misfortune, because my magic, for reasons that elude me, has made Calanthe Bloom mine.

“Because Tarian could’ve saved himself, but instead, he depleted his powers to save you. Which an Atlantean would know.”

“One Direction. A fan?” “Diehard.”

“A word of warning”—the runes on his biceps glitter as he brushes a kiss to the hollow of my collarbone—“you’ve awakened the beast, Calamity Darling, and beasts aren’t always gentle when they devour.” “Devour away, Beast.”

“You inspire my heart to beat, Calamity Darling.” He traces the outline of my mouth. “To keep beating.”

“There will never be anyone else for me. I sensed it before, but now it’s far more than a feeling—it’s a conviction. You’ve burrowed yourself so fucking deep inside me that pieces of your soul have merged with mine.” I trace every letter on her spine, reminding her of their presence, of their meaning. “I’m not saying that you have to stay with me—I may be an asshole, but I would never take that choice away from you—but I am saying that I am irrevocably and entirely yours.”