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I’d already suffered plenty of scars for transgressions against their god. All carved into my back and legs by Sacton Crain, or the Vonkovyan guards who sometimes doled out the punishments.
How tragic that a woman’s worth equated to the depth of a man’s pockets.
down over the ten rods that pierced the underside of his cock, each one holding its own sordid memory.
This girl is the anathema, a witch, and deserves banishment to The Eating Woods!”
“You walk between realms of the dead and living. The world you’ve known, and the one that has remained hidden from you.”
Who was the little mortal with raven hair and that silvery crescent in her eye that reminded him of a winter moon? And why had he not stopped seeing her in his mind since that night?
“I find it interesting that any time a girl is unusual, or dare I say, unique, she’s deemed evil, or cursed.”
“You have a nice back.” The words tumbled haphazardly from my lips, and I slapped my hand to my mouth far too late to contain them.
“My point is, I will never fall to my knees for you, or any man, in case that was your expectation.” “Never said it was.” He gave a quick glance over his shoulder. “I simply said I’d like to see it.”
Each creature carried a silver marking, like the one I’d seen on Raivox—a crescent moon. The same mark that marred my eye.
She set her hands to her hips, her frown deepening to something she probably hoped was vicious and terrifying. He found her oddly arousing and adorable at the same time.
No, beautiful was too weak a word. She was intoxicating. Exquisitely divine.
He turned his head to the side, refusing to let her see the yearning that was damned near beaming in his eyes. How ridiculous he must’ve looked, a man of his strict training and discipline, pining after her like a fucking prepubescent schoolboy. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Lunamiszka.” “Do I still annoy you?” she asked. “Endlessly.”
“I’m supplying the power, but it’s you who commands it.” Me commanding his power.
Whatever poisonous spell she’d cast over him had stirred a dark and dangerous craving for more.
“Everything is poison with the proper dose. Even you.”
“You are a fucking torment, Lunamiszka,”
How greedily he desired her. His little moon witch.
“I am angry at you.”
“For wearing this dress. For looking so painfully exquisite, you’ve managed to draw everyone’s attention. Including mine.”
“I curse Rykaia for bringing you here. And yet, the thought of never seeing you in this dress is a torment in itself.”
She was chaos wrapped in fine silk. The embodiment of trouble that’d nearly brought him to his fucking knees when he’d first laid eyes on her across the ballroom. So achingly beautiful, his chest hurt.
“I said she is your mate. I saw it in a vision. She wore your sigil, the mark of your scorpion. As did your son.”
She opened it onto a small room, with a bed that wouldn’t leave much space between Zevander and me,
She was his. Lunamiszka. My little moon witch.
“You are mine, moon witch. For all eternity and whatever lies beyond it. No soul has ever been more intricately woven into mine than yours.”
“If preventing this plague means sacrificing your life, then I’ve no interest in saving everyone else. The whole world could perish of disease and famine, for all I care.”
