“When I was young and alone in my room at night, with a father who didn’t like my existence and no mother and no friends, just my overactive imagination and my brain, you know what I used to think about?” she murmured, never breaking their locked gaze. “When one of my father’s guards sneaked into my room and I had to fight him off—” his hand tightened on her neck in reaction but she continued, “—wallowing in my loneliness and self-pity, you know what I would dream about?” He waited for her answer, never moving those intense blue eyes from hers. “A monster,” she whispered between their lips.
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