Prince of Deception (Myths of Airren, #2.5)

by Jenny Hickman

Her lips are made of fire. Her touch is made of flame. I’ve never even met her And yet I know her name. She burns me from the inside out. Still, I need her all the same. She is the other half of me My life, my love, my flame.

I swore I felt my absent heart beat for the first time since the Queen had stolen it from me. “Shit. Shit.” No no no. “I finally found you.” Her lips are made of fire, Her touch is made of flame . . . My soulmate was a feckin’ human.

“I bought you a cottage,” I said to ears that couldn’t hear. “It’s hideous.” A smile lifted the corner of my lips. “You’re going to love it.”

Aveen was my home in a way the castle and the Forest never had been.

Oh, please. I was obsessed, not smitten. Being smitten implied an air of happiness. All this obsession did was make life hell for us both.

“You are my only weakness,” I confessed, knowing no other way to make her understand but through the dangerous truth. “And if the world found out, it would take you away.” And I would burn everything and everyone in my path to get her back.

For her I would kneel. For her I would bow. For her I would live in the feckin’ dirt.

What a feckin’ joke. Some of the deadliest creatures I knew were women.

“Tá mé i ngré leat,” I whispered. Her swollen lips grazed my collarbone. “What’s that mean?” “It’s a promise.” That if we succeeded, if my heart was returned to my chest, I would love her until the world ended.

“The truth is, violent Aveen, my heart may beat in my chest, but it has always belonged to you.”