Gilded Wicked Mirrors (Wicked Mirrors)

by Hazel St. Lewis

He didn’t look evil, but sometimes evil came masked as pretty gentlemen.

“I am a god, little ballerina. The things I know would rattle your bones and rip apart your heart.”

“I hate you.” “Right now”—his voice was low—“the feeling is mutual.”

men could not be controlled. They were dangerous. Unpredictable and messy.

He was an intoxicating drug, and she wanted to get lost in him.

“Stay with me, you brilliant nightmare.”

“It’s complicated.” “Uncomplicate it.”

“Perhaps the bravest thing I will ever do is accept that I cannot control everything.”