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In my head, I’m a slut. But in reality, I just read a lot of spicy books.
“Shit,” the strange man curses behind me. “Ashwater! Get down here, your damsel is in fucking distress.”
Would you rather that your one night stand kidnapped you and took you to a castle full of monsters, or that you’re really hallucinating in a mental hospital amidst a divorce-induced psychotic break?
“Ninety-nine years ago, Thorne was betrothed to a woman the entire kingdom believed was his soul-bonded mate.” “She wasn’t?” Jett asks. I shake my head. “Apparently not, because the week before their wedding, he betrayed her with another woman. Unfortunately, the girl was a powerful sorceress. She was so heartbroken that she cast the curse on the entire kingdom, then flung herself off a tower.”
Everyone knows that once mated, Fae males never stray from their partners. Ever. It’s not exactly a choice, but a compulsion—a biological shift that only happens once in a lifetime.
“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. As long as I’m breathing, no one will touch you.”
“You were busy,” I say. “I’m not going to wait around for any man. My time and attention belong to people who are thinking about no one but me.” Without warning, his hand shoots out and lands on the wall behind my head, boxing me in. He leans down so his mouth is mere inches from mine and bares his teeth. “Then I should get every single minute of your fucking attention.”
“But be careful what you call me, Peaches. Next time you say something like that, I’m going to take it as an invitation to spank you.”
Males tend to show their wings around their soul-bonds, even before the bond has fully formed.
The sound of cracking air, like a flag in the wind has me opening my eyes again, even as I tilt my head to deepen the kiss. “Wings…” I murmur against his lips, apparently unable to form an entire sentence.
“Good. If you knew half the things I’ve thought about doing to any male who looks at you, you should be afraid. As long as I’m breathing, no one will fucking touch you, because I’ll kill them and fuck you in their blood.”
“You’re fucking mine, Alix, and no one but me will ever touch you again.”
“Fine, Peaches. You win. I won’t hunt him down, but if he or anyone else ever touches you again I won’t just kill them, I’ll burn down the fucking kingdom.”
“She’s your bonded.”
Soul-bonds aren’t predestined—at least, most Fae believe they aren’t. They’re formed, usually through shared experience or extreme emotional upheaval.
I glance up, catching Kastian’s eye. He looks at me apologetically. “Sorry, mate. Believe me, I know. An incomplete bond makes you feel fucking crazy.”
I’d bargain with every life in Vernallis to keep you.”
“Tu es tellement belle que je ne peux pas me contrôler en ta présence.”
“Je suis amoureux de toi, mais tu vas être ma mort.” “What does that mean?” “It means you’re a beautiful demon sent here to torture me.”
“Tu te sens tellement bien Pêches. Je ne désirerai jamais personne d’autre que toi.”
“Je pense que tu es mon soul-bond,” he says, breaking our kiss. My entire body is loose and lazy, but at those words, my eyes widen and I pull back from him again.
“The general consensus is that bonds aren’t fated or pre-chosen, they’re formed over time—usually from emotionally intense connections or shared experience. Not everyone who is married in Ellender is bonded, but most are, either from the start or after a while. We can date or have casual partners, but if a bond doesn’t form, most Fae will move on and keep searching.”
“She told me about the curse and her mother. It was never about the king getting someone to fall in love with him. The curse is only broken when the king sacrifices the person he loves most.”
“The curse will only break when the King of Vernallis admits he is powerless and sacrifices whomever he loves most.
“I fucking love you, Alix. I love you–”
“You’re mine, Alix. Forever. I’ll never think about anyone else, never want anyone else. I’ll follow you anywhere for the rest of my fucking life.”
