Bride

The first is that I was wrong, and his gaze is actually an odd pale green that borders on white. The second is that Father was right: this man is very, very dangerous.

His hair is short, a rich brown cut to a buzz; his suit is black, well fitted across his broad shoulders. He’s the only man in the room not wearing a tie, and yet he manages to look elegant anyway.

“You think, but you don’t know. You don’t know anything about what it’s like to find your other half,” he continues, voice low and sharp. “I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I’ll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her
and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body—I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me.”

ther people’s approval is a powerful drug. Lucky me, I never got the chance to develop an addiction.

“You lied,” I accuse. “You said all of that—and it was all a lie.

My feet drag me to Lowe of their own accord. They push me up on my toes, and I’m kissing him as intensely as I can, too much pressure too fast, my arms looped tight around his neck like a noose.

Not Were sex.” His eyes hold mine for a long beat. “Mate sex

Use me.”

I don’t get it. And then I do get it

That you’re so resilient, I can’t quite wrap my head around it. That you’re very . . .” He pauses. Wets his
lips. My heartbeat skips. “Very beautiful to look at. Always so beautiful. And that

“That you’re intelligent, and incredibly skilled at what you do, and brave. That despite your weird belief that you’re heartless, you’re more genuinely caring than anyone I’ve ever met.