Of Ash and Embers (The Mist King, #2)

by Jenna Wolfhart

Every muscle in my body was wound as tight as a harp string. I would snap if anyone plucked me too hard.

“Are we enemies?” I murmured. “Or have we merely misunderstood each other in a very horrible, twisted way?”

“My betrothed. The bearer of my future children. And the thorn in my side.”

“I’m not religious, love, but I am going to worship your body, starting with the altar of your thighs.”

Feral screaming. Woof woof