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It all made sense now—the number of times he’d drunk the other patrons at the House of Kala under the table.
“It isn’t a garrote. It’s a belt,” Fisher replied amicably. In my head, he said, It’s a garrote.
“I told them you were coming,” he confessed, the admission shyly made. Had I ever seen him like this before? Nope. It was unbearably sweet.
There was no stopping this. And why would I want to stop it? He was more than an addiction. He was life itself. We were separate beating chambers of the same heart now.
All libraries contained magic. Even libraries that didn’t specialize in such things. Because what was a book, if not a portal into another realm, another time, another life even.
“Orillith ken mas cree, Carrion Swift,”
Nissarhin.”
My soul is on fire. Tell me yours isn’t.”
“There it is,” I whispered. “What?” “The way that you love me. Some would say that is your weakness.” The lines of his face softened. “Some would say that,” he agreed. “But they would be wrong. It’s my strength.”
“Irrellieth ka tintar shey an mé correshan dow.”
My own mind wouldn’t stop caroming out of control,
No other emotion came close to this. Not the hatred I felt for Madra. Not the hurt I felt over Everlayne, suffering alone in some unknown hell. Not the worry I felt over Ren’s disappearance. None of it. The world could be ending and my love for this male would outstrip my fear. Sometimes, I felt like I would burst open from how overwhelming that feeling was.
“You just love flirting with danger, don’t you?” “Ahh, you know me.” He winked at me suggestively. “I’ll flirt with most things, given half a chance.”
In all my years alive and traveling this realm, I had never encountered anything so mighty and brave as this little fox with the heart of a wolf.

