Three Weeks Later
I HURRIED DOWN the corridor toward the new romance wing of the library, trying hard not to lose focus and stop to admire the books. My mate’s collection was the real dream. When we finally managed to stop strengthening our bond, Cassiel had taken me on a tour of my new home.
I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around this being real.
I glanced down at the pocket watch the prince had given me and swore.
I was supposed to arrive early, but when my cursed mate saw my gown, he promptly tore it to shreds and pounced.
Then we ended up making love against the bookshelves, over one of the research desks; I sank to my knees and worshipped him while he’d been sitting in his favorite chair in his study…
Needless to say, we were due some time apart.
I trailed my fingers along the smooth, well-oiled spines of the old books as I rounded the corner and grinned at the plaque hanging proudly above this wing:
Ruined by Romance
If my smile got any wider, I might start frightening the rest of our court. They’d probably worry that my dark side was back and I was about to lay waste to everyone. I didn’t share those fears. I knew, without a doubt, I’d overcome my demons during the Trials.
I’d also forgiven myself. Which was harder than surviving the stories.
Life was about choices. And choosing the light, choosing love and hope instead of fear and power, that would never change for me.
And if that wasn’t some serious character growth or epic main character energy, I wasn’t sure what was.
I continued to rush down the corridor, grabbing my skirts in both fists as I came to the chamber, already hearing the sounds of activity humming inside.
I paused, jumping in place for a quick moment, then strode in.
House Sloth had never seen anything quite like it.
It was about time Blondie had a little fun.
A pale sage green banner hung over the arched library doorway, stitched in gold thread: “Ruined by Romance: First Official Meeting.”
I stood beneath it, hands on my hips, wearing my favorite shade of morally gray, as was the dress code I’d sent out with the invitations.
The reading hall had been transformed into something between a lounging salon and a secret witch coven’s wine night.
Star-orb lanterns floated lazily above the cushions and low tables I’d asked the Library to summon. The air was thick with candle wax, magic, and sugar. Lots and lots of sugar.
Pitchers of Fae Fizz sparkled with strawberry-lime glitter.
Platters of chocolate-covered raspberry jellies were already half emptied. And every single seat had its own soft tunic draped over the back, each one stamped with glowing silver script: Fictionally Depraved I was different.
I learned that not much in life was scarier in truth than the nightmares our minds often made from our worries over what if. Fear was a true monster, and I vowed to slay it whenever it reared its nasty little face.
Lust started teasing Camilla, and Emilia and Adriana just laughed at his quips.
I grinned. All my wildest dreams were coming true, and I didn’t even have to use my magic to manifest them.
Camilla claimed one of the tunics and pulled it off her shoulder in that way that made it look like a fashion statement rather than comfort wear.
She caught my eye and smiled.
“I would kill for this shirt in every color. It’s so comfortable.”
“Please don’t,” I deadpanned. “It’s a book club. Not a blood ritual.”
“Speak for yourself.” Adriana flipped through her annotated copy of this month’s read, replying to something Lust had said. “I’ve got a list.”
Emilia, who was terrifyingly elegant even when dressed like a morally gray menace, handed out discussion cards she’d somehow printed on orange blossom-scented parchment.
“Question one,” she said primly. “On a scale from one to irredeemable, how sexy is the villain love interest?”
Chaos erupted. Drinks sloshed.
I may have heard someone shout “Ten and I’d die for him!”
That might have also been me.
That, of course, was the exact moment Cassiel decided to appear.
He strolled in with his usual maddening calm, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just walked into a den of feral romantics high on sugar and our favorite tropes.
“Blondie.” I beckoned him forward. “Please show them the tattoo.”
His brow arched, but he didn’t argue.
He shrugged out of the coat, then tugged the loose collar of his tunic to the side to reveal the new ink just below his collarbone.
Felled by Feelings.
Lust fell out of his chair.
“Oh, fuck me, that’s real? You seriously got that tattoo? ‘Felled by Feelings’? I’m—” He wiped the corners of his eyes. “Oh, gods. It’s too much.”
Sloth didn’t so much as blink. He turned and gave Lust a slow, icy smile. The kind that made centuries-old demons feel like they’d misbehaved in church.
The sociopath was back.
Lust sobered up immediately.
I leaned into the prince’s side with a smirk. “I didn’t even have to bribe him. He got it on his own.”
“Willingly,” my mate said, unashamed. “I was feeling sentimental.”
“And totally exuding some epic main love interest energy,” I said, grinning. “Very hot.”
“That’s a permanent condition.” He’d delivered it in such a perfectly deadpan way it made Camilla choke on her spritzer.
She recovered quickly. “I propose a new tradition. Every time someone cries over a morally gray romantic monologue, they get a tattoo.”
I pointed at Lust. “You’re next.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, flopping back dramatically. “If I were a romantic hero, I’d be dead by chapter five and replaced by a sexier version of myself.”
I tilted my head, letting the grin curl, slow and wicked.
“Please. If you were the main character, you’d be a leather-clad, weapon-smuggling former god of sin with a tragic backstory and a poetry kink.”
“That’s slander,” Lust said proudly, then paused. “Except for the poetry part.”
“I knew it,” Adriana muttered.
They were still arguing about whether Lust’s true love would be a necromancer with a heart of gold or a morally upright assassin when I finally let myself sink into my cushion.
I could see Lust with a woman who didn’t believe in love at all.
I wrapped both hands around my glass of Fae Fizz and took a long sip, letting the drink fizz pleasantly on my tongue.
This was perfection, a dream come true.
I had a book club, my family would be moving here soon, then we’d all live the rest of our lives lost between the pages of books. I had my mate. I had forever.
And when I looked up and met Sloth’s eyes, the world quieted.
He was still watching me. Hadn’t looked away once.
My heart did that soft, fluttering thing it only did for him. And I knew then, without question, that this wasn’t the end of our story. Not even close.
This was only the beginning.
And, gods, I couldn’t wait to turn the page.