Broken Dove (Fantasyland, #4)

by Kristen Ashley

“A dove has great beauty, but is easily broken.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he whispered, his eyes locked to mine as I drew in breath. “You might get it.” He put his hand to the doorknob and finished, “And not want it.”

“It’s my experience that a weakness understood is no weakness,” Draven put in at this point and I looked to him. “If you know you have it, even if you can’t control it, you can make allowances for it. It is those who ignore or don’t understand their weaknesses who are wasted by them.”

But he’d had a broken dove in his hand, and instead of setting about mending it, from near on the moment he brought her to his world, he’d done nothing but tighten his grip, fracturing her further.

“Am I in there?” he growled. Oh yes. Fuck yes. He was in there. “Yes,” I whispered. His hands spanned my hips. His fingers digging in, he stopped my motion and slammed in himself, staying deep and grinding. “Am I in there, Madeleine?” “Yes,” I gasped.

“I tell you now, my poppy, for years, I never thought I would again be happy. Never again.” He tucked me closer and finished on a rough whisper. “So I never imagined I could be happier.”

“All my life, I’ve never been happy. So I never imagined even being that way. Until now.” He heard me.

“This is us. That was us. We’re here, my poppy. We’re alive. We’re together, my dove.”

“Tonight we learned we must hold tight to happiness, my dove. Every day . . . every moment . . . is a gift. We must hold tight to that, Madeleine, and never let go.”

Love like you build with Miss Madeleine is as she is. It is not of this world. Not of her world. It is beyond the worlds. It is beyond anything.

Home was a warm, safe place where you were always welcome. Where there was love and memories of laughter and happy times.

“It is my responsibility as the man who loves you and wants you to be his wife to mend what’s broken in you.

“I have vowed to keep you safe, to make it so you never feel fear again, to give you better, and here I stand, with you so close but still holding yourself away, because it was me who failed at giving you all those things.”

His dipped down. And then his lips were on mine. But he didn’t take my mouth. “Remember this kiss,” he ordered on a whisper, his eyes staring into mine.

“They are, dove,” he agreed. “But this one, the first I will give you knowing you return yours with love, will be the one I most treasure for the rest of my life.”

“Some time ago, a man filled with sorrow handed me a bag filled with hope. Those stones were in that bag,” she told me quietly and my eyes dropped back down to the necklace. “He knew, as I knew and now you know, even as he paid for the chance to have it again that love is priceless, love is worth every battle fought, every wound endured. He knew, as you now know, ma colombe, that love is everything.”

But before he could kiss me, I whispered, “Remember this kiss.” His eyes peering into mine, already warm, they turned sweet. “Always,” he replied.