Heartless

by Marissa Meyer

She licked her lips, a reflex, the result of a hundred daydreams. A hundred daydreams about him. The glen was quiet but for the drum of her heart. Cath could imagine it. Everything about it. His lips, his arms. His body pressing her back onto the soft grass, the golden light of a timeless day cascading over them. She curled her fingers over his. “Kiss me, then.” She offered no resistance when he pulled her to her knees, trapping their interlaced fingers between their bodies. His nose brushed against hers. “My heart is yours,” he whispered, sending a chill down her spine. The corners of her lips lifted, in anticipation, in joy. “Do be careful, Sir Joker,” she said, remembering Hatta’s riddle. “A heart, once stolen, can never be taken back.” “I know,” he said, and kissed her—soft, at first. “But I’m giving it to you willingly.” Another kiss, hesitant, growing bolder. “Catherine,” he murmured against her, “you taste like treacle.” Catherine grinned, delirious once more, and pulled him down onto the grass.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOO FUCK OFF- HES MINE WTF