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“He shouldn’t be alone. He doesn’t deserve to be alone.”
“I, too, have been at the mercy of men, more times than I wish to recount. My mother would tell you the best way to answer them is to remain steadfast, quiet, and continue doing the right thing.” Macha’s eyes flashed brilliant green. “I am not a woman, but sword and shield. I will carve my own path, or I will force others to create it for me.”
They tell you time and time again you are a pool of still water. Yet, we both know underneath the surface a tempest rages. I will enjoy seeing your claws grow.”
“You think I’ll ever give you that kind of power over me?” His voice wavered with humor. “I would bet my life on it, Stone.” “I look forward to your attempts, Sunshine.”
She was so beautiful. And he? Eamonn walked past a shattered mirror and growled. He was little more than a monster.
“Everything is dangerous, and one must decide whether to live in fear, or courage.”
In that moment, she gutted him. No one had looked at him like a person in such a long time, without pity or fear. She just opened her eyes and smiled at him. As if he was finally where he belonged.
“I’m afraid to know what I want.” “Everyone is.” She stood on the precipice of something great, but she didn’t know what she would find.
“Children suck the lives out of their mothers. They drain them until they are little more than husks. But they are good for the soul.”
“Who am I to judge others for the choices they make? If a soul is born to be wild, it will only grow angry with a leash wrapped around its neck. If a soul prefers order, then it will shrivel with too many choices. Neither is wrong.” “You do not see darkness as evil?” “Nothing is evil. The very idea was created by those who won wars and wished to paint their poor choices as the right thing. No one goes into war or battle thinking they are evil.”
“I notice everything you do. You haunt my steps and my dreams. You’ve bewitched me, Sorcha, and I want my soul back.”
“I fear that you would ask me to lay the world at your feet.” He glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes searing through her calm resolve. “And it would be all too easy to do.”
Those freckles were captivating little stars decorating her skin like the splatter of a painter’s brush. She was the most unusual creature he had met.
“I never wanted poetry,” she said on a soft sigh. “I only wanted a man who could see me for who I am.” “Then open your eyes, Sorcha of Ui Neill. And see the world as it truly is.”
“I think controlling the future with an iron grasp only limits the possibilities of tolerance and positive change.”
He was beautiful. An instrument of power and symbol of strength.
Every single moment was perfect and sweet. And he was perfect. Every broken bit of him was perfect for her.
“I will fly upon the wings of the Wild Hunt if need be.” She burst into laughter. “I thought faeries couldn’t lie?” He tugged her off the edge of the catwalk and into a hidden corner. The heat of his chest seared through the fabric of her dress. “I do not lie. If I had to call the Wild Hunt to save you, I would.”
But her heart knew what she wanted. Him.
“Eamonn,” she whispered. “I want to see you.” “No one wants to see this face.” “I desire to see nothing but you.”
“How dare you hide from me, my king.” “Your king?” “You hide from no one.”
A small moment of worry made her wonder if he would fit. She’d have to make him.
“You feel like coming home,” he whispered. The words tasted sweet against her lips.
They had battled, drawn blood, and in the end, they lifted each other towards the stars and emerged victorious. Both alive, and undone.
“Every time you open your mouth, it’s as if you are plucking words from my soul.
“Mo chroí,” she whispered. “You called me your heart.”
