Defy the Night (Defy the Night, #1)

by Brigid Kemmerer

I want my hands on her waist, on her back, on every inch of skin this gown leaves bare—and some inches that it does not. I want her scent in my head and her taste on my tongue and her arms wound around my neck. I can’t move. I want her to want those things, too.

“If you know I can see through all your illusions,” I say softly, “you might as well stop trying to throw them in my path. I know who you are. I know what you’ve done.” I glance up, and I can’t decide if I hate him or if I pity him—or something else altogether. “I see you. I see what this is doing to you. Has done to you.”