Glint (The Plated Prisoner, #2)

by Raven Kennedy

Gold may gleam, but it doesn’t stand the test of time. It wears down, loses its luster, becomes nothing but a needy, malleable surface with no durability.

I don’t know if the bones in my body are as gold as the rest of me, but for my sake, I hope they are. I hope my spine is gilded, because I’m going to need a strong backbone if I want to survive.

Time changes with torment. It stretches on, lengthening seconds, extending minutes. I’ve learned that pain and fear have a way of prolonging. And as if that weren’t cruel enough, our minds make sure we relive those moments again and again and again, long after they’ve passed. What a bastard, time is.

Peonies for good health. A willow branch for luck. Cotton stems for prosperity. The fleshy leaf of a jade to bring harmony.

“I hope you burn so bright that you scorch your Golden King down to ash.”

I shiver from the intimidation of seeing him like this, because he is intimidating. But he’s also beautiful. Rip has otherworldly allure and unmistakable magnetism. I suddenly understand the insects that fly willingly into carnivorous plants. The draw is too strong, the pull too bewitching, that you forget about the danger until you’re already trapped inside.

Mortified that I’d touched him so boldly, I snatch my hand back. “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I don’t know what came over me.” The blacks of Rip’s eyes, indistinguishable between iris and pupil, look larger right now, like the color is taking over. “You don’t like to be touched. I don’t seem to mind so much.” My cheeks go hot. There’s something there in his voice. A caress that smoothed over its harsh edges and slid over my skin. It scares me, even as it draws me in.

Did I think he was beautiful before? I take it all back. He’s an ugly bastard.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “things need first to be ruined in order to then be remade.”