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I hated him at first. Perhaps a part of me still did. But one thing was certain... He was the air I breathed. I could not live without him.
I felt the fury of a small child who sees the injustice of the world and wants to reach out and stop it any way they can.
“I was happy,” my mother murmured. “I have been happy. You saved me from much worse. Even now, I do not regret it.”
We must have both run into the wall. I focused my eyes. Not a wall. A man. A huge, looming man.
You could tell a great deal by what a monarchy chose to remember about its own history–and even more by what it chose to forget.
“Who did this to you?”
“Whatever might have happened to you, you’re choosing to fight back. I don’t see how that’s a bad thing. All of life is a fight. There’s no point in avoiding it.”
“Stop. Is that his fucking name?” Draven’s voice was icy. “Is that his fucking name on you?”
“I burn for you, Morgan. You've set me aflame...” “Then let the flames consume us,” I whispered back.
Vesper’s words had sounded like a vow. The kind a knight gave his king. Or his queen.
“Stop taming the battlecat,” Draven said, looking slightly annoyed. “She’s a killing machine. Not a house pet.” “Says the man who snuggled beside her all night,” I retorted.
