to be hunted, to be haunted
“It’s over,” he tells her gently. Well aware that this hurts her.
But it is pain of his doing, and he relishes that almost as much as he will relish her pleasure.
Bloom stumbles back, her breath coming in frightened little gasps as she surveys the destruction he wrought in less than an hour. Neither of them had known he was capable of this, but he was. For her.
He tells her as much. And, as expected, it ignites her shock into searing, screaming fury.
Golden magic saturates her skin with flickering flames, bursts from every pore until she is haloed in it, in the Flame that connects them both. Blue eyes burning with vengeance, fixed to his. Blind to the entire world but him.
“Yes,” he laughs, exhilarated. The hunger for a fight, for her, thrumming in every nerve as he raises his hands, inviting, welcoming. “Come to me.”
