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There was something dangerously seductive about him, leaving me feeling too warm beneath the tunic. A deadly allure, fitting for the kind of man who could whisper honeyed words in your ear as he ran a blade through your heart.
She was beautiful. No, beautiful was too weak a word. She was intoxicating. Exquisitely divine.
“Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Lunamiszka.” “Do I still annoy you?” she asked. “Endlessly.”
“Who could’ve predicted that one touch of your pounding pulse would be so disarming.”
“Possessing a blade doesn’t make you a threat. It’s the mind which governs the weapon.”
“For wearing this dress. For looking so painfully exquisite, you’ve managed to draw everyone’s attention. Including mine.”
“You fucking look at her, and I’ll carve your eyes from their sockets then cram them down your gullet.”
“Look at her one more time, and from this night forward, the only thing you’ll be staring at is the endless, black void of remorse.”
“Fucking hell, you are a vicious little rosebud. One minute, you’re soft and inviting, the next, you’re thorns and blood.”
The magic and heat between us warned of something explosive. Something I’d never find in another so long as I lived. A sensation that would inevitably consume me like those wicked black flames he wielded. Better to have experienced that passion and watched it fade like a dying star than to have never known it at all.
“I want you. I want you so desperately that I’d kill anything with a pulse just to have you for one night. This insatiable craving I feel …” A muscle in his jaw twitched with the tension in his words and he squeezed my hand. “I can’t fucking breathe. I ache for you, Maevyth. Believe me when I say this.”
“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.” My heart lurched with his words, the cynical creature inside of me loosening its grip. I ran my fingertips over his cheek and the wretched black scar there. “And you are mine,” I whispered.
