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If he didn’t discover her secrets and kill her, she just might live long enough to see him die.
The air was charged, and nothing in her experience had prepared her for a moment like this. The surge of attraction they both felt made her lungs tighten. Her toes curled against the stone floor.
His fingers still tingled from touching her skin. Her burn had scalded his fingertips, but he’d be lying if he said that was the only reason for the heat he’d felt in that moment.
Because he needed to know if he could trust her. At least, that’s what he told himself. Truthfully, he just found himself increasingly interested in getting to know her.
It had never bothered him that people called him the Butcher. It didn’t matter if his friends or family heard it, because he knew they wouldn’t look at him any differently—they knew him. Amryn didn’t. And it bothered him that she might think of him as the Butcher.
“You always have my attention.” The soft words—so quiet she barely heard them—made her stomach flutter, and warmth spread through her body. He wasn’t even touching her, but he had a physical effect on her. Something about that was alarming.
He made her laugh. He brought out a lighter, more playful side of her that she hadn’t been since her mother’s death.
Carver bent toward her. He didn’t analyze why he wrapped his hand around hers—again. “Do you need anything?” The movement was slight, but she shook her head. He squeezed her hand. “You should rest. I’ll wake you when the physician comes.” A tear slipped out from the corner of her eye. “Stay,” she croaked.
“There is an unrivaled peace in a library. Surrounded by words, but enfolded in silence. Knowing that stories lie dormant on the shelves, but a little time with you and they would come alive.”
“The price some men pay for power is nearly as terrible as the fact that evil men are often the only ones who gain it.”
“You didn’t cheat death only to be crushed by a bloody book.”
“We expect writers to give us everything, but sometimes it’s up to the reader to look a little deeper. And if you don’t . . . well, you might miss something wonderful.” She twisted toward him. “Are you trying to tell me that I need to judge less?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “There you go, looking deeper.”
The best characters always have layers and flaws. It’s what makes them real. It would be a shame if we had more compassion and understanding for a fictional character than we do for those closest to us.”
“To live is to face the unknown. It is the joy and the challenge we all must meet. But I know you’re equal to the task.”
“I don’t think I have the power to break her heart. She never gave it to me.” “And what about you?” Argent asked. “Did you give your heart to her?” He snorted, trying to breathe past the sudden pang in his chest. “No.” The red-haired harpy had stolen it.
Something had shifted inside him. Maybe it had been shifting for a while. But this woman had him. Completely. Forget the suspicions, fears, and consequences. He might not understand everything about her, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. She had given him comfort when he didn’t deserve it. She had given him beauty in every smile, when all he’d seen for too long was horror. She had trusted him with her darkest memories when he was drowning in his own.
“You chose to forfeit your life by coming to tell me this. You risked everything to save Argent and Jayveh. To save me.” “Yes,” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you what I know about you, Amryn. You’re good. You’re kind. You have strong morals, and you won’t compromise them—no matter who asks you to do it. You are brave. You came to me, regardless of the consequences, because you didn’t want people to die. You chose to give up everything in order to save people you once considered enemies, because you valued their lives more than you valued a cause. Because you clearly believe that true peace isn’t gained in death, but in understanding and trust. In friendship. Amryn, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. I don’t see you as my
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He was right, this wasn’t a goodbye. It was a promise. And when he pulled back and looked at her with bright eyes, she knew it was one she would carry with her for far longer than tonight. Saints help her, she was in love with her husband.
He relaxed his tight hold on his emotions, and without those defenses, she felt everything fully. Desperation. Sincerity. A little uncertainty and apprehension. Burning curiosity. Gratitude. A quiet grief, but that was muted—it had nothing to do with this moment. Protectiveness. Loyalty. Affection. Friendship. Trust. Love.
