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If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-three years alive, it’s this: Women in pain give men confidence.
Confidence makes men sloppy. And sloppy men are easy targets.
She’s obsessed with the idea of the Bonded. I can’t totally blame her—superhot warriors riding mystical beasts and wielding mysterious magic? It’s intriguing, if you can set aside the extreme and punishing classism.
Still, just a man, I think, faintly disgusted.
He tucks the device away, hand still firmly on my jaw. Then, without warning, he forces my head to the side. He leans down, his breath now hot against my neck. And his tongue streaks over my skin.
thats so hot
You don’t even bow for the king.” Anassa’s mind ripples with irritation. “I give respect where respect is due.”
He’s not shirtless in my imagination. At first.
And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: You touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”
He can sleep standing like a horse, for all I care.
My fingers tighten in Stark’s hair. He opens his mouth wider, bares his teeth, and bites at my flesh.
“She gave me her blessing,” Killian continues. “Let me be strong for you, Meryn. Be my wife. Marry me.”
Ah, just what a girl wants. Her sister’s missing and her mom is dead but yeah let’s get hitched
“Chiara Sturmfrost is dead. Meryn Sturmfrost has returned. Long live Queen Sturmfrost.”
“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”
“Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you at the Forging Ball in the dress I picked for you”—What?!—“swirling in your lover’s arms and bowing to his traitor father?”
“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”
“You’re worried?” He scoffs. “Never. You are the danger. Any person who doesn’t see that deserves what’s coming to them.”
Delight sparks in Saela’s eyes, her grin so wide and bright it’s all I can see. She pets Anassa again and coos. “Who’s a pretty girl?” she asks, her voice high. “You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you?” Anassa looks over at me, eyes narrowing. “Tell her not to talk to me like I’m a baby. Make sure she knows that direwolves deserve respect.” “You don’t like that, you widdle cutie?” I tease.
