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“Misery personified shall descend upon a winged beast to unknowingly rescue her own undoing, but when the pieces are reforged, the downfall of the hallowed son, the chosen, and the heartless mother is inevitable.”
Not all goblin clans utilized the slaying of their king to determine their new sovereign, but enough followed the bizarre tradition that saying a thing like not all goblins was a rather ineffective argument.
Damien had told her he felt as though he were falling interminably through the Abyss every moment he was not burying his cock in her, and also that her incessant kindness had broken him and made him good. Or something like that; who could really remember? It was not as if it were written down in some tome, and he could flip to chapter sixteen to repeat it.
“I say a lot of idiotic things,” he grumbled, grip on her wrist and jaw tightening. “What I mean is that I want to keep you, your body, your soul. I want every beat of your heart for my own, and I want to be consumed by you.” Amma had fallen still again, glassiness to her blue eyes. “You’ve ruined me, Ammalie,” he said with a chuckle. “Enthralled me completely without even using magic.”
