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To all the readers who complain that my heroes are always irredeemable jerks… I’m afraid I have terrible news.
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Here I opened wide the door;—Darkness there, and nothing more. —Edgar Allan Poe May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary. —Xan Oku
“The most beautiful woman on the continent. No close seconds. They call her a vision, a masterpiece, a myth. From now on, she only has one name—mine,”
“Raffaella Callaghan is mine. Nobody is to look at my wife, speak about my wife, or breathe in her direction. She’s under my protection now. The first to cross the line will be the last. They’ll be made an example.” His gaze dragged across the room, which collectively held its breath. “There will be no body to bury, no ashes to spread, no memory to spare if you’re stupid enough to disrespect her. Us. Understood?”
“I’m not letting you go, you know.” My voice was calm, final, before I let my eye flutter shut. “You’re mine. Only fucking mine. Till my last breath.”
“Don’t feel so sorry for yourself. Tragedies are excellent teachers, Lila. Learn, absorb, and conquer.”
“I’m an excellent marksman and a terrible enemy. Go to sleep, sweetheart. Nothing can hurt you now that I’ve laid claim on you.”
“I would never hurt you like that.” I found my voice, opening my eye. “Even if I wanted to. Even if you begged me to. Even if you cheated on me. Even if you killed me.” And then, because it felt too raw, too real, I added, “Protecting you is a compulsion at this point. I’d stop the night from falling if darkness scares you, Lila.”
“You shouldn’t bask in it, Gealach. You should be very, very afraid. I have no red lines when it comes to you. No logic. I will love this baby as my own, because anything born of you is bound to be perfection. He will be mine. And I would kill for him. Die for him.”
