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“Yeah, tap that ass!” Ruby cheers from her perch on my shoulder. “Tap it so hard the prince will have to ice it down later.”
“Have fun with the ILB,”
ILB: Instant lady boner.
SOAS: Sex on a stick. PESG: Pointy-eared sex god. FBD: Future baby daddy. Mack gets all the credit for that last one.
“Summer,” he breathes, hardly daring to move as he stares into my eyes, “I know you asked for time, and I’m giving it to you. But tell me you won’t fight our bond forever. As long as I know there’s hope, I can deal with the agony of not being able to have you. To claim you the way every cell in my body demands.”
“Ready as a broke stripper at a bachelor party.”
“There is no just once with him. He’s like . . . like the Ebola virus. The second I let him inside, he’ll infect every cell, every molecule of my being until he owns me.”
“Holy crap, is your sprite humping your pencil?” Mack snorts.
I watch, equally horrified and spellbound, as she turns an invisible lever that slowly lifts her middle finger toward the Six. “Sit on this and spin, Evermore scum,” Ruby cackles.
“Because you gave him the one thing that could hurt him again—the burden of caring. And that terrifies him more than anything.”
A pigeon flutters near his feet, pecking at a piece of trash, and Valerian looks ready to slay the poor creature.
Asher is similarly shell-shocked. He was doing fine until he entered the crosswalk too soon and was nearly flattened by a red Miata. Valerian, used to negotiating for every service in the Everwilde, offended a cab driver when he claimed the driver’s rate was tantamount to thievery and got us thrown out.
Which is how two of the most powerful Evermore in existence got trapped inside a revolving door for three whole minutes. When Asher freaked out on the escalator, we decided it was best to stay outdoors for a while.
Valerian Sylverfrost, Prince of the Winter Court and possibly the most lethal Evermore I know, just crawled over and laid his head in my lap.
“Your smile,” he says immediately. “You were always grinning like you knew a secret, and I wanted desperately to know what that secret was.” “And did you?” “Yes, you’re deeply obsessed with me. Now, my turn.” He takes the leaf before I can argue, twirling it above his head.
His reply: Delicious. I can’t wait to devour it. Me: Really? So I’ve finally won? Him: Oh, did you think I was talking about the food? Me: You’re the worst.
“Yes, mortal love isn’t perfect. It’s messy and complicated and not driven by magic, but choice. The choice to commit to one another forever. The choice to stay when life gets hard. When the other falls ill or gets fat or depressed or—the point is, it’s a choice between two people, not some magical bond.”
“The tiny girl keeps sticking her tongue out at me,” he points out, obviously disturbed by this. “And the other one picks his nose and then eats it.” “They’re children,” Valerian comments. “All children are odd, but not particularly dangerous.”
And when I read his words . . . I’ll fight for you, always. Love, The ILB
