To Bleed a Crystal Bloom (Crystal Bloom, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

Because lies are pretty little masks we place on our words to tint the truth into something palatable.

“Mates, Orlaith, are a fairy tale. A tragedy painted with the pretty face of a happily ever after, but at its core, it’s still a fucking tragedy. If you believe everything you read, you’ll be disappointed when you finally step into the real world.”

“That’s how you kiss someone you love, Orlaith. Anything less and they aren’t worthy of your heart or the power to break it. Understood?”

“What I want, what I need, and what is right are three entirely different things.”

“Despite how murderous I am,” he mumbles, and there’s a roundness to his words, like they had to veer their course to get here, “you do look ravishing in that color.”

It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve come from; it’s in our nature to fall in love with the shackle that binds us.”

“You’ll never be rid of me. You may not have a shadow, but you’re chained to mine for eternity. You think this has any weight?” he says, waving my wrist around—the one shackled by Cainon’s cupla—and a vicious sort of chuckle rolls out of him that smarts my skin. “You can run off and tie yourself to your pretty High Master, but I’ll hunt you to the four corners of the continent. Not because I want to, but because I can’t fucking help myself.”

“You want a fairy tale?” he spits, waving it in my face. “I’m your fucking fairy tale. I’m nailed to your soul, Orlaith, and believe me when I tell you there is no happily ever after. Not for me, and certainly not for you.”

and throb as if to battle his frosty strike. He clicks his tongue. “Don’t come at me with that fire, Milaje. Not unless you’re ready to be torn to shreds. And I don’t mean your body—I mean your fucking soul,”

“These right here?” he rumbles, tapping my ribs with the tips of his fingers. “We’re both tucked beneath them. Stuck in this fragile cage together.” “Then break out,” I plead. “Set me free, Rhordyn!”

“I’ll give you anything, Orlaith. Anything but that. Don’t ask again.” The words are spoken hauntingly calm, as if his heart stopped beating a very long time ago. Another stunted response. Another dead end. The back of my eyes sting, a lump swells in my throat, and all I want to do is cry. But I can’t afford to spend more tears on him. Not now. Not ever again. “Why not?” I’m proud of myself when I manage to keep my voice steady. “Just answer me this one question, and don’t you dare answer with a grunt. After everything, I deserve a truth and you damn well fucking know it.” Nothing. He says nothing. Just murders me with his silence again. Which tells me everything—bleeding me in an entirely different way than the drops of blood I gift him nightly. I close my eyes, severing myself in a way I can’t physically achieve. But then his grip slips from my hair, driving up to support the back of my head. His fingers spread, lacing through my thick locks and making me gasp. He loosens a frosty breath that steals the fire from my cheeks. “Simple, Milaje. I refuse to live in a world where you don’t exist.”