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“Why the fuck is everyone in this kingdom trying to murder my wife?”
“Reid,” she said slowly, incredulously, “did you just curse?”
Reid was here. And he was a witch. And—and he’d just said fuck.
“Reid.” When he refused to look at me, I cupped his face again. “I knew who you were. I knew what you believed . . . and I fell in love with you anyway.”
“When I was a child, I saw the world in black and white. Huntsmen were enemies. Witches were friends. We were good, and they were evil. There was no in between. Then my mother tried to kill me, and suddenly, that sharp, clear-cut world shattered into a million pieces.” I brushed the tear from his cheek. “You can imagine my distress when a particularly tall, copper-haired Chasseur walked in and crushed what was left of those pieces to dust.”
“I love you, Lou.” His eyes welled with fresh tears. “I—I’ve never seen anyone savor anything the way you do everything. You make me feel alive. Just being in your presence—it’s addictive. You’re addictive. It doesn’t matter you’re a witch. The way you see the world . . . I want to see it that way too. I want to be with you always, Lou.
“Where you go, I will go.” With deliberate slowness, I pressed my lips to his.
Ansel saw us first. A wide grin split his face, and he dropped the pot he held and raced toward us, enveloping me as best he could in a fierce hug. Reid reluctantly let me go, and I returned Ansel’s embrace with equal fervor. “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. “For everything.”
a wounded animal is a dangerous beast.”
