The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

by Carissa Broadbent

I wasn’t angry. Anger was a fool’s emotion. It made you slow and stupid. What I felt was hatred. Cold, sharp, precise.

As if the gods had seen some beauty in mortality but failed to realize that the imperfection of it was what made it remarkable.

‘Even if it is your fault, I will love you anyway.’ ”

She was just her—a constant presence.

“I don’t care.” The easiest answer I’d ever spoken. Perhaps the only time I, a man obsessed with answers, had ever said it.

I threw my mind wide open for her, too, like windows on the first warm summer night, letting in the solace of the moonlight.

I was a man who was in love with a woman, and I understood that love would never be beyond fear.