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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.
“And you,” she says, turning on me, wild-eyed. “You are not where you are meant to be.”
A muscle in his jaw feathers, and his dark eyes, framed by those impossible lashes, shift away from the needle for an instant to bore into me.
And a scar. It’s hidden, slashed right across the very edge of his jaw, up toward the base of his ear. For some reason, that more than anything compresses my lungs and sends my heart thudding against my ribs like a striking fist. It’s like a secret he didn’t mean to share.
He’s a killing machine. That’s obviously why he has a soft-looking blanket draped over the arm of his chair. Because even killing machines get cold… apparently.
“Thinking about spitting in my face again, princess?” he says, dark amusement in his eyes.
And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: You touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”
“Who did this to you?” he demands ferociously,
I find my gaze drawn back to the portrait of Lucien Brightbane. Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before?
Stark’s eyes lock onto mine. The hunger in them steals the breath right out of my lungs—sends adrenaline coursing through my veins.
There’s someone else I do trust, who has always prioritized me. Who looks out for me. Who understands my pain and tends to my wounds. Who tells me everything he knows. Killian
Someone shut her the fuck up.
My family has waited hundreds of years for your arrival, keeping the secret alive. I’ve waited. And when the Sturmfrost royal finally makes her appearance, she’s weak and in love with the person whose family stole her birthright!”
If Stark had tried to say something, I probably would’ve stabbed him. And Anassa? That wall would have come crashing down once again.
Glad to see she’s finally self aware
“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.”
Mine. My psycho asshole. My bloodthirsty killer.
That was fast
This is what Killian’s done to me. Sunk his fangs deep, right to the heart of me. Stolen my crown, stolen my powers. And now he won’t let go.
He wants to crawl to her on his knees and lick the blood from her cheek.
From across the square, their eyes meet, and Stark feels that thing in his chest again, cracking, shifting, resettling. Like meeting like.
