Enchantra (Wicked Games, #2)

by Kaylie Smith

“And I won’t be showing you any mercy if you lay a finger on my wife.”

“I hate when people say that,” she told him. “It is something you’ve never seen before. Me. And I’m spectacular.”

“Hearts can never truly be trusted, anyway.”

“I’d never usually say no to a man gifting me jewelry”—she gestured at the ring—“but this is… ugly.” “It isn’t meant to be fashionable.” He looked to the ceiling in exasperation. “It’s meant to be helpful. I’m offering you undeniable proof of my intentions and you’re concerned that it isn’t to your taste?” She scoffed. “No, I’m concerned people will think I chose it.” “How mortifying,” he deadpanned.

“I’m sure there’s a lot of things you haven’t heard in two and a half centuries. Someone telling you that you’re fun. The sound of a lover’s climax⁠—”

“She’s mine,” Rowin snarled, his shadows beginning to swirl in the air around him. “Whatever you might think of that, whatever problem you have with it, if you ever try to touch her again, I will make the rest of your eternal life even more fucking miserable than it already is.”

“If you wanted to be choked, all you had to do was ask,” he murmured as he crouched before her, reaching up to brush the pad of his thumb over the tender skin of her throat. “I wouldn’t have left any marks.”

“The light isn’t something you need to chase, Genevieve. The light is wherever you are,” he told her.

“You know that you are not to blame for any of it, right?” “Is that your final question?” she whispered. “Genevieve.” “I don’t know,” she admitted. He shook his head, expression darkening. “That better be your fucking lie.”

“You don’t need to say thank you,” he told her. “You and I are partners. We’ll save each other.”

“I heard it was someone’s birthday,” the Devil said and grinned over at Genevieve. “I hope you made a wish, Mrs. Silver.” “Well, my wish was to never have to see your face again, so this is quite disappointing,” Genevieve said.

Forget whatever I wrote earlier in my misguided youth. I hate him.

“Shadows can only be seen in the presence of light,” he told her, the words agonized. “I worry when you leave, there will be no one left to see me.”