A Fire in the Flesh (Flesh and Fire, #3)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

I’d seen enough abuse to know there were two types of those who hurt others: ones who felt remorse for their actions, and those who simply did not. I thought I knew which category Kolis fell into, but in the end, it rarely mattered if the apology and remorse were genuine or not because nothing justified the violence, and the abuser almost never changed.

“The lives of millions of mortals nor those of the gods do not surpass yours. The realms can rot into the Abyss and all life can cease.” Another streak slid down his other cheek, damp and the color of midnight crimson. “I don’t care, as long as you are beside me.”

Darkness always gave way to the light if given time, and while some heartbreaks may never completely heal, living allowed there to be space for new sources of happiness and pleasure. Life was worth living even when it was full of unfairness and injustice. When the heart felt light and when the chest was too tight to breathe. Because death was final. The absence of choice. And life was a collection of new beginnings. Full of unending choices.