Throne in the Dark (Villains & Virtues, #1)

by A.K. Caggiano

“My life’s work,” said Damien, lips curling at the corners and thin, black brows narrowing. “It is finally complete.” He was twenty-seven.

Laughing myself silly at the thought of completing one’s life work so young. What are you going to do now?!

Damien looked down at his palm, the one he had sliced that morning to cast the only healing spell he knew for that pitiful, little creature in the alley. That had been just before she’d first happened upon him and decided to help him. Blech. “Of course it’s healed. I told you it would.”

Damien watched her thumbs as they smoothed over the place the cut had been, her fingertips on the back of his hand, holding him there with a touch so gentle it sent shivers up his arm. He ripped his hand away from her and shook his head.

“Horns? Infernal blood and noxscura itself flows through my veins. Blood mages don’t wear their heritage like half elves with their pointy ears and questionable affinity for trees. It’s just within us, lurking right below the human shell.” “What’s wrong with liking trees?” “Nothing, that’s not…listen,”—Damien

but this man, this Damien Mal-whatever-thorn, claimed to be one of the most feared and powerful beings in and out of the realm. And he was, what, a glum and self-absorbed twenty-something, living up in the Infernal Mountains and prowling the dirty streets of Aszath Koth to heal wounded kittens?

“They’re a sort of excessively zealous consortium who have unorthodox views.” “You have a cult?” Amma’s voice was squeaky even as she tried to keep it low.

When the day is night, and the corners of the realm have fallen into rot, the hallowed son shall release the Harbinger of Destruction upon earth once again. Only by the spilling of the descendants’ blood may It rise, and by the spilling of the heart of the earth’s blood to beseech the gods may It fall.

So during an eclipse. Maybe the rotting has to do with raising an undead army. He will give his life. And someone else will beseech to bring him back to end it. Guessing am a

It really was an extraordinarily pleasant face, even with, or perhaps enhanced by, that scar, especially when it wasn’t pinched in anger.

Another girl who understands the enhancing feature of a scar

He almost asked her about this Laurel, about sharing tea in the cold, about all of the memories of winter she had buried in her mind, and autumn too for that matter, summer, spring, but then he swallowed it all back and stuttered out another shallow question about the local flora.

“Did you hear that?” Amma’s sharp whisper cut into Damien’s mind as it began to drift into sleep. He groaned. “You mean that terrifying cry that sounded like a woman being gutted?” “Yes!” “No, I didn’t. Go to sleep.”

Squeezing her eyes shut to still her heart, there was an image imprinted on her mind of Damien looming over her, the way his lip had curled up as he said things that should have been terrifying, how his eyes knew exactly what to look for, the recognition when they found it, and then the surprised pleasure at discovering what she couldn’t hide.

it has the only proven resurrection spell in existence within its pages.”

He is going to remove the stone and kill her, but then use this to revive her

Damien grinned from the side of his mouth, once again holding up his dagger, and Kaz, on his shoulder, hunched his back and rubbed his clawed hands together. They didn’t understand the meaning of stealth, obviously.

“And this someone,”—his jaw tightened—“they hurt you as well?” Eyes still cast down, shoulders hunched in, she simply nodded. Infernal darkness, it would have felt good to choke the life out of someone right then. “This someone is in Faebarrow still, yes?” She nodded again. “Where exactly?” When she looked up at him with confusion, he clarified, “I would like to pay them a visit.”

Who did this to you 😈😈😈 my favourite

You’re a lot more handsome than you think. I know you’re self-conscious about that scar, but you shouldn’t be, your face is great, and the scar is actually kinda…” She made a sort of groaning giggle then, eyes closing. “You think my disfigurement is attractive?” He chuckled at how ridiculous she was being—easier than allowing her to rile him up too much. “Well, yeah, duh, it makes you mysterious and scary, but good scary, ya know? Makes you wonder, like, how’d he get that? And what’s he gonna do to me once he gets me tied up? And also, I can tell under that armor you’re all muscle.” She actually tugged at the collar of his tunic then, and he was too surprised to stop her from trying to get a peek. Instead, he just grinned, and when she looked back up at his face, she giggled madly. “Oh, and Damien, you have such a nice smile. You should do that more. It just makes me want to—” She hiccupped, and it was like someone had clamped a hand over her mouth, stopping her halfway through a thought she didn’t mean to say out loud.

He couldn’t believe it, not for a moment, even when she said it herself, that there was a single soul in the realm that she couldn’t convince to fall in utter and unconditional love with her.

“Quiet,” he whispered, dipping his lips beside her ear, the heat off her body radiating against him. “Patience is a virtue, and I know how virtuous you are. For now.”

D amien did not like being told what to do. He liked even less being told what to do by some shiny-armor-wearing, holy-weapon-wielding, punchable-face-having fuck of a marquis.

Of course, that all should have been good! To still know one was evil when wrapped so forcefully in a linen of goodness was likely good—that is, good meaning useful, not good meaning virtuous—because then one knew deep down one was bad—that is, bad meaning evil, not bad meaning useless. Yet he felt a wholly different kind of bad, a conflicted clawing deep in his chest that left him at a loss both emotionally and linguistically.

“It is time you knew me for who I truly am: Xander Sephiran Shadowhart.” Murmurs rose up from the crowd in response, and Amma glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, my gods, blaming Xander? What a good idea,” she whispered. “I know.” He was already grinning slyly at those below them, but his brow ticked upward at her. “But don’t forget, you’re meant to be terrified of me, not impressed.” “Oh, right.” Amma let out a scream and tried weakly to flail out of his grasp.

“Damien?” She nudged him. “Oh, right.” He grabbed her much more tightly then, dropping his voice. “Ready to go, my little prisoner?” Amma almost giggled, tingling under his grip, but only cleared her throat, putting on her best wide-eyed, innocent look. “It’s not really up to me, is it, Master Bloodthorne?” Damien growled in her ear as he walked them down the steps into the earth that had opened up. “Careful talking like that, or I’ll think you really are mine for the taking.”

Ahhhhhhh. Freaking out. Fangirling. Miss rabbit has fainted. Miss rabbit has fainted again