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“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” he says, climbing over me, his body against mine.
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
― The Wicked King
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
― The Wicked King
“I hate you," I whisper before he can speak.
He tilts my face to his.
"Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone.
I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.”
― The Wicked King
He tilts my face to his.
"Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone.
I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.”
― The Wicked King
kiera’s 2025 Year in Books
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