Extraits

L'amour est une forge...atrocement douloureuse, mais cela nous rendait néanmoins plus fort.

Je brûle pour lui.

Le crépuscule.. Lorsque le voile entre les mondes devenait poreux et les ombres passaient des vivants aux morts.

L'amour peut faire bien plus de mal que les pires tortures que nous sommes capables d'inventer.

[...] L'amour nous brûle, n'est-ce pas ? Et le feu nous renforce, dit-elle dans un profond soupir.

“We can get married, but at the wedding, I draw the line at sacrifices. We should fuck around bonfires and in the woods. I was promised this kind of party when I first got here.”

A mischievous smile curled his lips. “At a wedding, changeling? Honestly.”

“A Beltane wedding.” I smiled. “Don’t you remember promising me Beltane? We fuck each other hard up against the oak trees,” I began in my best imitation of his voice, “rending the forest air with the sounds of our ecstasy. When was the last time you forgot your name? That you forgot your own mortality? Because that is what it means to be fae. I could make you ache with pleasure until you forgot the name of every human who ever made you think there was anything wrong with you.”

Their love is a forge that burns them and everyone around them. It’s the kind of love that makes a mother throw her child off the side of a castle to see if she can fly.

“The Unseelie are not weak,” he said in a low voice.

I cocked my head. “And I’m not one of you. You people disgust me.”

“ The thing is, changeling,” he whispered, his breath warming my throat, “if by some chance I don’t make it out of the Court of Sorrows, I can’t die with you thinking I’m the Henry VIII of fucking. And I will make you moan my name.”

“I’m not letting them get you again,” he said, almost to himself. His velvety voice was like a balm against the ravages of the last few days. “I’m getting you away from the fucking demons.”

“Awkward that I’m one of them,” I muttered.