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In the doorway stood my enemy. But tonight I needed him. To fight a monster, I needed a monster.
“Precious?” he murmured, that one word dripping with fury. Maybe it was my sanity failing with my life, but it didn’t sound as if his ire was directed at me. For once. “Who hurt you?”
The hot-blooded part extended to more than just sex, it was an all-encompassing possessiveness that demanded warlocks destroy anyone who upset their mate.
“I could absolutely be a spellcaster. I mean, the rarest, most powerful of magic, where I can literally draw on the energy of the world itself for near limitless power.”
Conquester livara incidium morando. The ancient language of magic users was no longer part of our day-to-day speech, but we still used it in spells. Everyone knew the rough translation of the motto: “To conquer life you must first accept death.”
According to the welcome pack, there were five halls in Ancot: Florence Wing, Spectral Wing, Aura Hall, Ember Hall, and Nightrealm Hall.
Alice cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. “You’re not making it up. Logan looked exactly like that, and you two were inseparable. Even though he’s Trevor’s age, he just gravitated toward you and was überprotective.”
“Actually, is there a less than zero figure I can use? Because that’s where I’m at. He’s clearly an asshole, and I prefer to spend my time around people with souls.” A devastatingly gorgeous, broken asshole.
“Repeat after me, we don’t fuck bad boys.” Belle opened her mouth, and then slammed it shut. “Sorry, I can’t. My programming is preventing me from lying.”
With my consent expressly given, Logan’s kisses turned demanding, drugging, and they tasted like power.
“Hear me now, Paisley Hallistar. There’s always only been one endgame for us. The journey might vary, but the end will never fucking change. Our endgame was written when you were four.”

