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Hell was made of swirling darkness and secrets just like the man in front of her.
“Love. Loathing. Same passion, different names,” he told her. “And how easily and swiftly the line can be blurred, don’t you think?”
“We were married, with Knox’s permission, and eventually went on to have our seven children: Gravington, Covington, Rowington, Remington, Sevington, Wellington, and Ellington.”
“Can’t I marry one of the others instead?” she suggested. “No,” Rowin stated. “This was my idea. Therefore, you’re mine. If anyone is winning freedom from the Hunt, it’s me.”
“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.”
“The light isn’t something you need to chase, Genevieve. The light is wherever you are,” he told her.
“I’m a creature of Hell, worshipping is not usually in my nature.” Then he lowered himself between her legs and flicked his tongue out to taste her. “But for whatever time you remain in my bed, I will make it your shrine.”
“It’s never easy to realize that the people who are supposed to protect us are the ones who can create the deepest scars.”
“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.”
