Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)

by Raven Kennedy

I’m incredibly aware of his arms around me, of the way he doesn’t falter as he holds me up, as if he could hold me for eternity and never let go.

Why is it that a man can make you feel like nothing, when you have given him everything?

Behave tonight Sit pretty Play your silly music Leave the men to speak Those old words sing along in soundless lyrics. Same shit, different castle.

“He hit you.” Slade grinds out the words, each one spoken from sharp back teeth. Midas has done far more than that, but emotional assault doesn’t leave any marks on the skin.

Sometimes, things need first to be ruined in order to then be remade.

You’re not the villain in my story.” “I am,” he says without remorse, his sharp jaw tight with tension. “But I’ll be the villain for you. Not to you.”

As if he’s caught the tremor of hesitation that moves through me, Slade says, “Do you remember when I accidentally walked in on you in my tent when you were changing?” At my slow nod, he goes on. “I wanted to touch you so damn badly it took every ounce of self-restraint to walk away. I’ll admit, I thought about that moment many, many times.” “That’s not very gentlemanly,” I tease. His lips tip up. “I’m no gentleman.”