The Ash King doesn’t kiss me. With his mouth against mine he whispers, “I save my kisses for the women I might marry. But if you want other parts of me, I’m happy to oblige.” “I don’t kiss kings who threaten me,” I whisper back. “And I don’t fuck them either.” “That’s too bad.” He pulls back slowly. “I could make you forget your own name.” “And I could make you forget the past,” I reply.
