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Shit, he hated it when anyone outside of Synthia called him Demon. For some reason, her saying it had calmed a part of him. As if being one was okay, and not something he should hate.
Ristan’s voice broke and his heart shattered as he whispered a goodbye to one of the only women who’d held his heart without hurting him.
Synthia
Death was everywhere, and he smiled, fully aware that while he was awake, he was drawing those souls to himself. Consuming them, gaining strength from them, growing stronger.
“Shit, some lad is going to get himself killed for you one day, sweet Kahleena. Go easy on the lads, for your father will think you’re his world.”
“Basically, we’re going to the pits of this place, where they used to do sacrifices to Hecate,”
The catacombs below the Guild.
“Not quite Human, nor quite Fae, a Witch you are and something hidden,” the woman spoke, as they both tried to listen to her distant voice. “You are pure of heart and pure of soul, come inside and seek what you will.”
She was more than falling for her captor; she had already fallen for him.
She was becoming more than just his prisoner, she was becoming his obsession.
“Old enough to know better, young enough to do it twice and see if it gets my rocks off,”
as all Fae take after the mother and they inherit the brands of their father.
As a librarian you know that sometimes the most beautiful covers have the dullest story hidden in their pages, while the most used or plain cover can have the most beautiful world created within its pages.
“Let’s go Witch hunting, brother.”
“We could just run in and toss a few Hail Marys out, seeing that we are under a cathedral,” Synthia offered
