Summoned to the Wilds (Villains & Virtues, #2)

by A.K. Caggiano

Then again, if Eva had seen how that blood mage looked when doing it—and for her nonetheless—she might have actually surrendered all her virtue on the spot.

because surely she would understand, she would accept things as they were no matter how terrible, because she was soft and compassionate and forgiving and…and she deserved so much more than whatever the fuck he had dragged her into.

“I’ve seen your Chthonic, it’s abysmal.” “Of course it’s Abyssal,” Xander snapped. “That’s where it comes from.” “Abysmal,” Damien stressed. “Terrible, illegible, bad. I’ll do the translations, and you take a turn at dictation.”

Hope I don’t get smited. Or is it smote? Smitten?”

Ok

And anyway, how could someone so utterly handsome be evil?

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, fighting off a smile. “You are my captive, after all. No one’s touching you but me.”

There was nothing to be afraid of, she realized, not here and not anywhere. Not when they were together.

words were meant to make women dangerous—that was, in fact, one of the best things they did.

“Amma, the only thing that is clear is that I prefer your company, even when you are infuriating, to an entire cave full of vampires. I’d like nothing more than to be with you, but not when you’ve had to coerce yourself into it by way of magic. I do want you, but not like this.”

I could not bear it if you woke tomorrow and thought I had hurt you.”

“There are ways to communicate with him. Infernal ways.” It was infernally annoying, at least.

It was an interesting change, and Damien felt the arcane pull of the wildwood himself, but without Amma’s presence, there was a hollowness too that no sunshine could fill.

“And when you come right down to it, you’re either making something or destroying something, and there might not be a whole lot of difference between those two acts either.”

“That’s my girl,” Damien murmured, satisfaction running like arcana through his veins as he closed his fist around his magic again. After seeing how steady Amma held the weapon, he’d kill every last person in the whole of The Wilds just for a brief moment alone with her.

What had at first been a hateful and cumbersome chain had grown into a tether he desperately held onto, an anchor he relied on in an arcanely dark sea so easy to become lost in, and as selfish and terrible as that was, the thought of severing it pierced him deeper than any blade ever had.

And he knew then, unequivocally, that losing all of it—losing her—was going to be even more painful than never having Amma to begin with.

Amma was in his arms, she was safe, she was kissing him, and he was complete.

“You came for me,” she whispered up against his mouth. His fingertips grazed her temple, smoothing away hair that had fallen in her face, and he pressed another kiss to her lips. “You called. How could I not?”