The Queen of All that Lives (The Fallen World, #3)

by Laura Thalassa

I am a thing made of lace and blood. Swathed in silk and dripping with the dark deeds of men. I suppose I’m finally clothed accordingly. The adrenaline I

felt earlier resurges through my veins, and I grip my gun tighter. I’d like to say that I can feel all those years I lost, that they left some imprint on my body or my mind. But I can’t. Other than my memories feeling a bit foggy, there’s no

indication that I’d been asleep for decades ra...

I don’t move. I barely even breathe. I’m falling apart. From hate to love to hate once more. My hardened heart was not made to withstand such vast and ever-changing emotions. It’s cleaving me to pieces.

Suddenly, he’s no longer casually strolling. He strides forward. “You will always be mine, and you will never—” As soon as he is within range, I cock my arm back and I slam my fist into his

face. He staggers, his hand reaching up to his cheekbone. I stalk forward, and then I sock him again. And again. Pain radiates out from my knuckles, and I relish it. Montes falls, and

I follow him to the ground. My fists have a mind of their own. They land wherever they can, and the meaty slap of skin meeting skin echoes throughout the room. My tears fall alo...

this—angry and desolate—all at once. And with every blow, I wait for that flood of relief to come...

But this doesn’t feel like revenge. The king keeps taking the hits, and he doesn’t r...

not even to protect himself. “Fight back, you bastard,” I growl. He laughs, and those white, white teeth of his are now stained red with his b...

Finally, his arms come up, but only so they can encircle me. He pulls my body flush against his. “God, I fucking missed you...

It’s not anger that’s

riding me now. It’s a hurt so vast I can’t see any end to it. I could fit entire galaxies into the space it’s carved out for itself inside me.

“So you admit that I can win you back?” The cork pops. “That’s not what I said.” He begins filling my glass with wine, his eyes pinched at the corners like he finds is whole thing very humorous. “It’s what you don’t say that interests me most.” I pick up my glass. “I’d prefer it if nothing about me interested you.” God, it’s such a lie. Montes meets my eyes. “Serenity, the sun would sooner fall from the sky. Even when you slept, I couldn’t stay away from you.” The ocean breeze

She can’t escape, I ensured that, but I still don’t want her out of my sight. My paranoia is a beast that could swallow me whole if I let it. And I have ample reason to feel this way. I thought Serenity would be safe below my palace. She hadn’t been. And now she’s in my room. Our room. Ready to gut me alive. Everything that’s wicked in me thrills at her savage nature.

She and I are love and war. Peace and violence. I have taught her how to be a worse person, and she’s taught me how to be a better one. I fuel her

hate, and she fuels my love.

Slowly I lower myself and straddle his lap. I take the tumbler out of his hand, and staring at him the entire time, I down its contents. I hiss out a breath at the burn of it. “You’re wrong, you know,” I say, taking

the other glass from him and handing him my now empty one. I’m going to need the alcohol. This close to the king, I end up either wanting to fight him or fuck him.

He’s happy. I’m making him happy. And, for that matter, I’m happy. Oh God.

mine. I see lifetimes and lifetimes of desires in those eyes. They all begin and end with me. He never stopped loving me. That much is obvious from his expression. And yet, the same man who stares at me

in apparent adoration also shut me away in some desolate corner of this palace for decades and decades. “When did you forget your feelings for me?” I ask.

His brows pinch, and his eyes grow distant. “When...

someone for as long I have, love becomes this abstract concept, something you attach to a memory. And when memories are that old, they feel like dreams, and you wonder if any ...

My muscles tense when he stops only a handful of feet away. “Tell me something that makes this better,” I say. “I love you.” Now I rotate to face him.

I regret it immediately. Montes’s eyes go soft. Will I ever get used to that face wearing that expression when he looks at me? Your nightmares aren’t supposed to make you feel cherished.