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I’d learned at too early an age that the sound of a girl’s scream drew nothing more than apathy.
The glassy, eldritch gleam, so cold and sharp, held my reflected form in a chilling glimpse of a world beyond. A place I feared to imagine. Death.
What a terrible burden to watch something die.
“You’re peculiar, is all, Maevyth. And nothing invokes fear quite like the peculiar.”
How tragic that a woman’s worth equated to the depth of a man’s pockets.
“I find it interesting that any time a girl is unusual, or dare I say, unique, she’s deemed evil, or cursed.”
“Your heart must be the smallest organ you possess.” “And your mouth must be the largest.”
No, beautiful was too weak a word. She was intoxicating. Exquisitely divine. Once again, his thoughts wound back to the moment he’d found her cradling his brother’s head, giving him the gentle caresses he’d been denied most of his life.
“Do I still annoy you?” she asked. “Endlessly.”
“There’s something you should know about him, Maevyth.”
He hooked a finger beneath my chin and drew my attention back to him. “Tell me.”
“Who taught you to sing?” Smiling, I shrugged. “Myself, I suppose. Who taught you to frown?” I asked with an air of amusement.
“I’m just not familiar with your other talents, besides fighting and growling and snarling.”
“What wicked spells you weave, little witch.”
“I can’t … I’m laughing … too hard!” Her response had me gasping for breath between obnoxious bouts of laughter, and I fell back against the bed.
My mind puzzled over when I would’ve told him that, or how he might’ve known. In all our interactions, I couldn’t recall having mentioned the Corvugon egg.
“Some women are fire in your veins and hell between your teeth, Brother.
“Fucking hell, you are a vicious little rosebud. One minute, you’re soft and inviting, the next, you’re thorns and blood.”
Lunamiszka. My little moon witch.
“I won’t let go. I promise.”
“You consume me entirely, little moon witch.”