Lightlark (Lightlark, #1)

by Alex Aster

Five hundred years before, each of the six realms—Wildling, Starling, Moonling, Skyling, Sunling, and Nightshade—were cursed, their strengths turned into their own personal poisons. Each curse was uniquely wicked. Wildlings’ was twofold. They were cursed to kill anyone they fell in love with—and to live exclusively on human hearts. They turned into terrifyingly beautiful monsters with the wicked power to seduce with a single look.

That grin faltered. “If we had”—his eyes dipped for just a moment—“it wouldn’t have been just once.” Isla could feel her face get hot beneath his gaze.

Was his flirting meant to distract her? Isla glared at him.

Wouldnt trust it either

On Lightlark and beyond, love had a price. Falling deeply and truly in love meant forming a bond that gave a beloved complete access to one’s abilities. They could do whatever they wished with it. Wield it, reject it. Even steal it.

Grim looked amused, eyeing her every step in a way that made her flush, mortified.

A knowing grin overtook Grim’s sharply cut face as he studied her right back. His black hair was smooth down his pale forehead, ink across a page. “Deciding if I’m a villain?”

Isla narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you . . .” “Read minds?” His head knocked gently from side to side. “Not really. I can read flashes of emotions. Fear. Anger.” His lips raised into a half smile. “Curiosity.”

Starlings channeled energy from the stars, allowing them to move objects.

She didn’t meet his gaze. “Don’t read me. It’s rude.”

You go girl

“I’m not sure what I enjoy more. Seeing the way you grip a sword . . . or the way your dress grips you.”

If looks could kill, the Nightshade would be dead,

“And I don’t know what I enjoy more. Replaying the image of my sword against your throat . . . or thinking about how your heart might look on my plate.” Grim’s dark eyes flashed with amusement. “Careful, Hearteater,” he whispered, towering over her, standing far too close. “I might just give it to you.”

The Nightshade brushed past her. A stripe of chill danced down her arm at his slightest touch.

The door slammed open so hard it seemed close to shattering, and she whirled around to see Grim, running, frantic. His eyes were wide—filled with fear. His breath was wild. There was a sword by his side. He was in front of her in an instant. “Heart—are you hurt?” His giant hands cupped both sides of her face, thumbs at the corners of her lips, studying her for any damage.

“You would do that for me?” Grim asked, gripping her hand tighter. It was foolish, caring for other players in a game as cruel as the Centennial. But she couldn’t help how she felt. “Yes. And you’re going to have to help me too. I might need some of your power to save my realm. I—” “I’ll give you anything,” he said immediately. “Anything you need. Anything of mine. It’s yours.” She smiled.

Oro pressed two fingers against her heart. Ran them lower, to the center of her chest. A vine snaked its way across the balcony and bloomed a red rose. Oro plucked it. Offered it to her.

That was the moment I knew I loved you, he had said. When that arrow went through your heart, and it might as well have gone through mine.