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“I’m not a girl to you, am I? I’m a witch, and always will be. Something to be hated and hunted down. Not cherished or protected. Not loved.”
If this was weakness, he wanted to be weak. If this was sin, let him be damned to hell.
Merciful Ancients. How had he gotten himself into this mess? Oh, right. Rune.
“Aren’t you tired of this bitterness?” he asked her. “Aren’t you sick of the hate? Those are easy, Harrow. What’s difficult is refusing to harden your heart despite having every reason to. Despite knowing the odds are against you.”
“There’s a third path. You’re just refusing to consider it.” Rune shook her head. “Trust me, I’ve considered every option.” “This path doesn’t exist yet,” he said, stepping in close. “It needs to be forged.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to put her back together.” “You can’t put her back together. Only she can do that.”
“This is our home, Rune. Yours, mine. Don’t you think that’s worthy of fighting for?” Something flickered in her eyes, but whatever it was, she smothered it. “Home is where you’re safe. This island hasn’t been safe for a long time.” “Then stand with me and fight for a better one.”
Beneath the hurt and fear and anger, she was the same Rune he’d fallen in love with. He believed that. She’d simply forgotten herself—the way he had once forgotten himself.
You’re saying you’ll stay and fight, if I marry you?” “More or less.” She ran a hand up his chest to rest against his heart. “Is that extortion?” His mouth curved. “I’ll happily be extorted by you.”
