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Their son, their perfect first born, was flawed. Gemstones and crystals grew out of the wound, marring his strong body, and marking him unfit to rule their kingdom.
“Women do not belong on their knees, child.”
“Ah, how many is it now?” “Nine, child. You should know. You’ve delivered them all!” “Right,” Sorcha said as she settled onto the seat across from Agatha. “My apologies, I lost count at seven.” “Truthfully, so did I.
“She is the only creature who can stand me. Sequestered on the land because the sea refuses to be her mistress, at least safely. I understand why my ladies fight over me, but, alas, I cannot choose between them.”
“Ah, I was right to bring you aboard. I know a faerie lover when I see one.
Less than a week at sea, and Sorcha was ready to kill herself.
“This place is too fine for me,” she said. “There’s no such place.”
He reached and ran a finger over the high arches of her cheeks, tracing the spaces between freckles. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“I knew you would taste like sunshine,” he whispered against her lips. “I knew it from the moment I first set eyes on you.” “Another flaw?” “Entirely.”
“A human in possession of a Tuatha dé Danann’s name is far too powerful.”
“I fear that you would ask me to lay the world at your feet.”
“You are far too wise to be human.” “I am not Fae,” she said. “You are something else entirely.”
“Wild thing that you are, fear has no name for you, does it?” “Fear is an enemy to battle. I know her well.”
A girl gets curious.” “A girl toes the line between right and wrong.”
If I desire a man, I shall take one.”
“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.”
She would tear apart anyone who dared say this man was not a king.
“I claim you as mine, rightful king of the Seelie Fae.”
“I like you better with your mouth shut.” “Shall I find something to keep it busy then?”
“Now is not the time to argue with me.” “What did I say about keeping your mouth shut?” she asked.
“Have pity on a man.” Hardly.
“Pity is for the weak,” she whispered, “and you underestimated the woman you took to bed.”
She wanted to mark him for all eternity. To shred him until all he could do was whisper her name.
“You feel like coming home,” he whispered.
