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“My sweet, despicable villain! You’re looking just as hideous as I remember.”
He spoke of her like the great storytellers spoke of the stars.
“Please, my darling Jules, sweetest of my guards, song of my soul, won’t you prepare our horses so that we may go for a ride?”
“For the record, I have no problems with you guarding me dressed in your current attire. Bed hair really suits you. Also, you have lovely ankles.” “I hate you.” “Semi-naked really suits you too.”
“I could make you scream.”
“You’re looking as vile as ever“ always worked, for she was not vile, nor ever had been. “I wish I could say I missed you,“ was also true. Because he did wish he could say it. He almost hoped she’d pick up on that one, but she never had.
He rehearsed the words in his head. Why, Juliana, fancy meeting you here! Do you always come here on your day off? She’d probably tell him he knew that already, and threaten some mild violence. He couldn’t wait.
He found himself bitterly unprepared for the agony of want. He was used to sordid fantasies and sick desires, used to craving flesh and sex. This… this was something else. He wanted to pull her into the bath with him, to stroke that flame-gold hair from her back and kiss every bruise and muscle and scar while she lay slotted against his chest. He wanted to dance with her all night long, body against his, breath on his face. He wanted to wake in her arms, for her stiff face to smile at him, for those lips to speak softness in his ears. He wanted her body to whisper poetry to his.
The yearning in this book is crazy good🤌🏻
“I’ve always known I would watch you die,” he said. “I’ve liked the idea less and less as the years have gone by. I’d trade many a year to give you an extra month, and still consider I’d got the better end of the deal.”
“Will you stay?” she asked. “Even after… even after I fall asleep?” Hawthorn brushed back her hair. “I would stay with you forever, if you wished it.”
“I love you, Jules, in case that wasn’t clear. I fear I may always love you.”
“For freeing the kingdom from Ladrien’s control, I would like Prince Hawthorn’s hand in marriage.”
He stepped closer towards her. “I do,” he whispered. “Tremendously. Voluminously. Painfully. I love you, Juliana Ardencourt.”
