The Second Death of Locke (The Hand and the Heart, #1)

by V.L. Bovalino

“It’s not magic when I have it. It takes you to make it into something.”

“You are a vision, even with blood clots in your hair. But I don’t know if all would share my depraved tastes.”

It is a mighty, powerful thing for someone to see your worst faults (and as your sister, I assure you there are many) and want all of you anyway.

“Grey, beloved, you absolute fool—if that was the worst of you, then you remain a saint among us.” He shook his head wonderingly. “And I have been trying to make you see me as more than your mage for six years now.”

“I adore you,” he said, all in a rush. “No—no. Listen. I… I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years, maybe forever. Sometimes it’s all I can think about, and I can’t breathe because it’s so heavy on my chest that I… I might be holding it alone, the only thing about you I can’t be certain of. It’s agony, Grey, the not knowing.”

“What is love without freedom?” he asked. “Is that love at all?”

Ruthlessness was, she agreed, its own kind of safety.

“Why must you always sacrifice yourself, and call that love?”

“I have no desire to flex my hand and control the nation.”

“What is love, without freedom?” she murmured against his skin. He leaned close to kiss her shoulder, then to whisper in her ear. “What is life, without you?”

“But being afraid is better than being hopeless.”

“And will it hurt? If I go back?” Alma smoothed her thumbs over Grey’s hands. “Of course it will,” she said. “Living always will.”