Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)

by Kerri Maniscalco

“If anyone chains you again, I will become every nightmare mortals have ever had of me and then some.”

“Simply saying ‘I love you; I’m pleased you’re all right’ would have sufficed, too.”

Wrath, the mighty demon of war, was giving me a sponge bath. And it felt positively divine.

Because Wrath knew me. For goddess knew how long. I was no eighteen-year-old witch; I was an ageless being.

“We’re blood.” “And he is her fate. As she is his. ‘As above, so below.’ They are the balance. Light and dark. One fallen from above, and one created in the underworld below.”

“I have a twin.” “Doesn’t matter.” Wrath lifted a shoulder. “I always knew you. And always will. Your soul calls to mine. It’s a feeling of coming home. Of peace. No magic can duplicate it.”

I might have lost my magic, but I’d certainly gained a heart, a soul. Things that now mattered more than cold, impersonal vengeance.