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Unfortunately, I’m a sucker for the tall, dark, and devilish type. The more red flags and pitchforks they’re waving, the better.
If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s when someone underestimates my intelligence. Especially when that someone is male and inconveniently hot.
I’d been seeing her in my dreams for months.
OH MY GOD
A new line of ink, bold, fresh, and burning white-hot like a brand, had appeared on the inside of my wrist. It was her name. And I knew without a doubt that this woman who walked out of my dreams and into my shop on a rainy October night was always meant to show up. Because, somehow, she was part of the curse too.
It’s a time-tested truth that the best-looking men are always the absolute worst.
Oh, except for the fun fact that any woman who fell in love with a Rousseau man was doomed to a tragic death. So that was perfect. Nothing says “great idea” like falling for a man who might be my own personal grim reaper.
She tasted like sweet dreams and bad decisions. And I was already in too deep.
The only thing worse than a smart-ass woman was a smart-ass woman who was right.
“He also said that a sleeping lion is still a lion, and I should take care not to step on its tail or risk waking it up.”
“You wear your fate like an ill-fitted cloak, child. It clings to you in places and slips from you in others. Your future is not yet decided.”
She was mine. And she was always meant to be mine, no matter how impossible that seemed to either one of us. I took her face in my hands and stared deep into her eyes, claiming her body as I let her see the truth in my gaze, that this wasn’t the end of the itch we’d both felt since the moment we met . . . this was only the beginning. From now on, nothing could separate me from her.
It figured I’d fall for a witch. My taste in women always ran toward the feral ones.
“Good. Because if you had died after all that, I’d have found a way to bring you back just so I could kill you myself.”
