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“But saving a soul like yours isn’t so easy, little nightmare,” he muttered. “You cannot be so willing to die.”
The world needed women who were willing to put aside their kind or nurturing natures. It needed women who could fight and scream and bleed until the very earth understood the burden of their pain.
This was her kingdom, and no man would push her off her throne without a fight.
He didn’t know what was happening, but the longer he was around her, the more real he felt.
The flash of her grin shouldn’t have eased something in his tormented soul, but it did.
“You can blame me for whatever you wish, nightmare.”
“Because I am theirs as much as they are mine.
“I’m not a witch, Elric.” “Oh, but you are.” He felt the words breathe over her lips. “Because you have certainly bewitched me.” Then he kissed her.
She smelled like a death lily and she tasted like life itself.
“I promise I will find you, nightmare. Don’t be afraid.”
“I vow never to sacrifice you, Deathless One. Not in this realm or my own.”
He had to. He was going to shatter in front of her, breaking into a thousand pieces, because the longer he was with her, the more he wanted.
Because a dark-haired demon called for her, and she was a weak-willed woman who wanted to worship at his feet.
He needed to hear the moans in her throat and her little cries when he finally allowed her to get what she wanted.
He wanted her body, mind, and soul. He wanted to consume her like some monstrous being out of the depths of madness.
That god belonged to no one but her.
The path to a throne was coated in blood, and she had to be woman enough to walk through it.
“No one deserves your trust if they cannot return it.”
