By every mortal standard, the worst faeries in the world were those in the Dark Court. They fed on the baser emotions; they engaged in activities that the other-also amoral-faery courts repudiated. They were also the only ones she truly trusted or understood.

It was the only way he knew to protect the court, the faery, and the only mortal who'd ever mattered to him.

Writing is not just the technical act of your fingers on the keyboard. Writing is living.

They've been stealing mortals away for centuries, but they can't have you.

Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she'd done, but a kiss a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full blooms. The garden fluttered around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth. She was mud-covered as he pulled back.

I'm not bloodthirsty, but...seriously, she killed you. She needs to be dead.

I'd stop anyone from taking that smile from you. I would, if I were allowed.