Daughter of No Worlds (The War of Lost Hearts, #1)

by Carissa Broadbent

His kiss burned on my cheek, joining the one my mother had left on my forehead all those years ago—twin scars branding me as someone who left behind the people most important to her.

On a particularly cold day, he stepped outside, shivered, looked up at the sky, and declared, “I’m not made for this,” before wandering back into the house. I quickly learned that Max was apparently only “made for” an exceptionally narrow set of environments, temperatures, activities, and interactions.

Max shook his head, rolled his eyes. And in the dying scuff of his chuckle, we lapsed back into that quiet, comfortable silence.

“If you’ll excuse us, Maxantarius. I promise I’ll bring her back in one piece.” “I’m not worried. She already had you on your ass once today.” Gods, Max.

“Tisaanah.” My name was a ragged sigh of relief on Max’s lips, so low it took me a moment to recognize it. He pressed his forehead against mine and said it again, as if he didn’t realize he was speaking aloud.

“One of the men who took me as a child is here.” When I met Max’s stare, fury rolled over his features like storm clouds, dark and cold and lethally still. He drew his staff from his back and readied it, warmth pulsing faintly where his fingers crossed its designs. Coiling. Waiting for my permission. “This belongs to you. I only move when you tell me to.”

My second eyelid slid open, and my body unraveled into fire.

My eyes dropped to the bedspread. “Everything went wrong.” “Almost,” Sammerin said, “but not quite.” “I’m sorry that you had to experience this.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not. Perhaps I was a bit concerned in the middle part. But some things are worth it.”