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Amma was sure Eva wouldn’t have chosen to help the man who had just unleashed an undead army on her hometown. 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.
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.
“How the fuck did Mal read it?” “He didn’t—he died.”
The blood mage stared back as if trying to will out more, but she only grinned in a self-satisfied way that made Damien want to hand over the world to her.
His handwriting was lovely and careful, and she’d found herself staring at it as he wrote, the scratch of the reed filling up the chamber as rain pattered softly on the massive windows. How could someone with such nice script want to ruin an entire city? A whole realm?
Just make him yours, she silently urged herself, the selfishness of those words not lost on her but meaning them all the same. If he’s yours, he won’t want to hurt anything anymore.
Hope I don’t get smited. Or is it smote? Smitten?”
Damien ran a hand down his face as he took a step toward the desk, and then stopped abruptly when the floorboard beneath his boot creaked. “Damien,” Amma hissed as the human relic stirred with a whining noise. “I didn’t mean to.” The baby’s whining began to escalate. “I said, I didn’t mean to,” he hissed directly to it as if that might convince it to stop.
Amma ventured carefully. “You look sort of sad, and I know he’s your friend.” “Xander?” Damien scoffed, maneuvering over a log with the infant in hand. “Amma, we have only known one another, what, a moon? I would hope then that you, of all people, would understand length of acquaintanceship does not equate to depth of friendship. ” Amma gasped, falling still. “Damien, are you saying I’m your friend?”
“You’ve worked together?” “No, no, more apart.” He had his nose scrunched up in contemplation. “It’s difficult to explain, but I believe, that they believe, that I am their…” His hand wound through the air, searching for the word. “Nemesis!” cried a voice, and the man in the robe stumbled up to his feet, book finally in hand.
And anyway, how could someone so utterly handsome be evil?
“You’re going to take me somewhere to kill me?” “What, no, why would—oh.” He cleared his throat, sitting straighter. “I did threaten you with that quite a lot, didn’t I?”
“So, you’re really not going to kill me?” He met her gaze. “Provided you refrain from irritating me.” Amma snickered. “I’ll do my best.” “I’m sure you will.”
“Feel free to be, you know, as irritating as you like without fear of imminent death.”
“All one ever needs be is threatening.”
There was nothing to be afraid of, she realized, not here and not anywhere. Not when they were together.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Lycoris, grabbing her by the arm and giving her face a slap, not terribly hard, but enough to shock her into forgetting she was about to pass out.
The vampire responded with a grin, sultry, though she seemed incapable of smiling any other way.
“What in all the planes has gotten into you?” “I’d like it to be you,”
“I know, it’s not very nice, deception,” he said, hand cupping the side of her face and thumb running over her bottom lip, “but you should remember what I told you when we first met: I’m not very nice.”
His kiss was not like the starved, needy ones she’d been giving him or the forceful, voracious ones he used to answer her back; it was restrained and sweet and made her stomach flutter with a whole host of butterflies.
Damien returned, a book in hand, and actually climbed up beside her on the bed. With a flick of his hand, the candle on the side table lit itself again, and he sat back as if he were not reclining next to a nearly nude woman, tied up, helpless, and begging him to do whatever he wanted with her. He opened the book, and the jerk actually began to read.
In just a moon, your painfully sweet voice has challenged all of my darkest thoughts, your wildly inaccurate yet optimistic outlook has clouded my sight, and your incessant kindness to me—to someone who deserves not a drop of your patience and affection and good will—has undone twenty-seven years of training to be evil.
“I am trying to be quite sincere, Amma, so why, on all the planes and beyond, are you laughing?” She gasped. “Oh, no, Damien, it’s just because you said cock and not, you know, something more you, like pulsing manhood or rigid pleasure spear or—”
I cannot explain or understand how you have broken me in this way, but you have made me feel…things that are maddening.”
My sweet Ammalie, he’d called her. She had broken him, made him feel, and he cared. Deeply.
He chuckled as he made his way over to where she was heaping praise on both horses in a sugary, sincere voice because of course she was, she knew no other way to speak to dumb creatures, which was appropriate as dumb creatures seemed to like it quite a bit. He certainly did.
She’d always known she was lucky to be relatively safe and more than provided for with her station in life, but imagining she could have been here doing this instead of embroidery almost a decade ago sparked jealousy in her chest.
“You made a tree,” he said plainly. She hummed, heading toward a cluster of blue mushrooms that were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world to her. “Well, you know, I had an acorn on me.”
“Well, you know, a tree is a lot like a loaf of bread, when you think about it,”
Fuck off, said the tree, and Amma actually gasped, eyes popping open.
I, of course, never doubted for a moment that you were completely fine, but I didn’t let on. I even faked a quite convincing swoon at the news, and you can guess who I made catch me.
Damien clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to stand as unmenacingly as possible, difficult at his height and with his natural demeanor,
A COURT OF ICE AND IRRATIONALITY
Kaz snuggled down with a sleepy yawn, the cutest she’d ever seen him, uneven jaw notwithstanding, though the fact he wasn’t talking certainly helped.
“I imagine you have a lot of dreams about trees, Amma.”
“I would rather have—” Damien cut himself off, eyes wide and staring into the darkness of the room. You. That was the answer. But it was also the problem.
With no cutting words from the imp about how they should both be glad to be free of Amma’s presence, Damien knew he had truly fucked up.
He would surely be sick of how abductable she was by now—she was certainly sick of it.
“I want her back,” he said, the words falling out with a desperation he was finally unembarrassed by.
Surely she would suggest that at least some of them didn’t deserve it, and since he only knew the face of the marquis, he would, however unfortunately, have to leave the rest alive. Because he did care, and he did feel, and he was going to bloody well prove it to her.
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?”
