The Wicked King (The Folk of the Air, #2)

by Holly Black

Once upon a time, there was a human girl stolen away by faeries, and because of that, she swore to destroy them.”

“Kiss me again,” he says, drunk and foolish. “Kiss me until I am sick of it.”

He hates you. Even if he wants you, he hates you. Maybe he hates you the more for it. After a moment, his eyes flutter closed. His voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself. “If you’re the sickness, I suppose you can’t also be the cure.”