More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
July 26 - July 27, 2023
The prince had not been the same since “his little witch” had died.
She wanted to call out to him. To reach for him. To tell him that she was there. She wanted to see his grin. To hear him laugh.
“You are one with…half the world around you.” Bayodan’s hesitation worried her. “You are of life itself.”
Half the world around her. She knew what the other half was. Death. Valroy.
“She—she—” Has rejected you a second time.
must he and I be enemies? Is that what we are to become?” Beatrice smirked. “That is entirely for you to decide, my child.”
Because sitting there, on the throne, mulling over his grief, lost in his tragedy? Was a man deeply in love.
Because she did not want them to be enemies.
She could see the beauty in him no matter how he smiled. She delighted in his kindness, even as she was revolted by his cruelty.
It was immense, it was ancient, and it was alive. It spoke without words. It did not need any. It was loving and calm, and it called to her.
There was happiness here—happiness and love and life.
He embraced her like a lover. He laughed with her like a friend. He hunted her like a wolf. And he delighted in her fear like a tyrant.
The memory of him kneeling at the edge of the Gle’Golun, terrified, desperate, afraid, and weeping because she was about to die.
If he were any normal man—or perhaps, even any normal fae—she would have assumed she had broken his heart. But this was Valroy.
The Bloody Prince let out a long, deep sigh. “I am in love with Abigail Moore.”
“Oh, come, now. Here you are, angry at me. I figured you might actually be proud that I have come here to apologize for once.” “You stabbed me six times.”
“That’s what he says.” Valroy pointed at Anfar. “I rightly wouldn’t know, or so he claims, because I am a ‘pitiful child’ with ‘the emotional sense of a brick.’”
“I want to scream at her in fury, shake her by the shoulders and demand to know what I have done to deserve her scorn, and…then…kiss it all away.”
“No wonder the prince tripped over himself trying to make you his queen.”
It was a home—it was a tree house—but made by nature itself. And it was…it was hers.
The memory of strong arms—impossibly strong—holding her. Of the way he shifted at her back as his hands drifted over her body. The memory of his laughter.
But he was so total, so overwhelming. There was only him, and his need as he pressed his hips to hers, slow and unstoppable. Inevitable. He was a force of nature.
He had wanted to kiss her, to clutch her to him and whisper that no harm would ever touch her again.
A woman can never change a man’s nature, Abigail. Never. Not by any power, not by any measure of love or lust.
“You have never known a man whose love has been denied. For never is there a more tragic, nor dangerous soul than that. Heed my words.”
“You will persevere. For you are life, and life cannot be defeated, no matter how dire it seems.”
But now that he could see what she had become, how could he ask for anything else? She was flawless.
