“Fae can’t lie. But you were probably fine with this marriage. It probably suited you to fuck whoever you wanted on the side.”
She walks away from me, and I press my lips together.
“That was before you,” I say. “If Willow is the one who destroyed the Eternal Chalice and plunged Faerie into war, isn’t she dangerous? Our priority should be to save Nick, at any cost. Breaking some old, dishonest wedding vows I can’t remember isn’t such an imposition, is it?”
“I need to think.”
She heads out of the dining room, and my selfish heart bleeds at the sight of her retreating.
She sees straight through me.
I’m cheering for my so-called wedding vows to be broken because I’m tired of our relationship carrying an expiration date neither of us can read. I want to marry Max and give her everything she deserves, not spend eternity linked to someone else.
I’m a bastard, but I can’t help chasing after her.
I need her to know our story is far from over.
I catch up to her at a run and drag a hand down the golden ropes hanging at her back.
“Let me come with you,” I say. “If only just to hold you.”
“No.” She picks up the pace, walking briskly toward the throne room, but her steps falter as we enter.
The four walls are made entirely of mirrors, and a myriad of reflections stare back at us. Her in her sinful dress. Me in my matching ivory jacket and trousers.
“Oh my gods.” Her mouth falls open, and she covers her eyes with her hand, flushing scarlet.
I peel it off with a smile. “Are you timid now, little fox?”
She spins around and rests an open palm against my chest, her fingers tangling in my buttoned jacket. “Look. We both know what will happen if you come to my room.”
I peck her cheek mischievously. “All the more reason.”
Her eyes close for a beat, and that tiny crack in her resolve is my undoing.
The kiss is soft at first, easing the burden of finding out I have a wife. A father. A kingdom. Then it deepens, and every thought in my head scatters.
Max fills my blood. The way she tilts toward me without realizing it. The way she sighs as though she thinks I’m an ass, yet somehow thinks the same of herself for being this close to giving in. How her chin tilts upward, as though she can bluff her way into falling out of love with me.
My need for her only grows. Every touch feeds it. Every stolen second leaves me plotting for more.
Always more.
There is no amount of her that feels like enough.
I want mornings.
I wantyears.
I want every version of her that exists across every possible future.
I crave things I was never meant to have, and a dark shard twists inside me.
Max tears herself away. “Stop kissing me like that,” she cries out, pleading.
“Like what?” I ask innocently.
“Like you don’t mind burning the world down to have me.”
