The Fates scream within me, demanding I kill the males touching her and all those who look on, gouge out their eyes for daring to look upon what is mine and for me alone. My Unseelie nature kicks in, and my hand drops to the pommel of my sword, the sapphire there warm to the touch as the power of my ancestors lingers. Bloodlust blinds me for a moment before my senses finally return and, with them, the true horror of what stands before me. Staring back at me, with contempt in her undeniably silver eyes, is my Fates-blessed mate. A witch. Every inch of me rejects my reaction to her. My lip
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