Gild (The Plated Prisoner, #1)

by Raven Kennedy

He decided to have his pleasure in the atrium tonight, probably because of the acoustics in here. To his credit, the moans really do echo nicely.

It gives me the crawling caterpillars in my stomach—not butterflies. I’m jealous of those free-flying bitches.

I’m the gold-plated prisoner. But what a pretty prison it is.

Does it really matter if your cage is solid gold when you aren’t allowed to leave it? A cage is a cage, no matter how gilded.

But memory and time aren’t friends.

One should never decide something as serious as bangs when they have a bottle of wine in their stomachs.

I’m ridiculously fun. You kind of have to be when the only person you hang out with is you. I wouldn’t want to bore myself.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that this much wealth...it becomes meaningless after a while. Empty. You can have all the gold in the world and yet lack everything of real worth.

It’s the arrogance of men, to think so little of women. And it’ll be their downfall too.

I won’t allow myself to be stagnant anymore. I won’t allow myself to be so weak and inept.

Men making deals on the behalf of women never seems to go very well for the women.

He’s terrifying. He’s ethereal. He’s so very, very fae.