Nevan
"Are you rooting for us now?" I scoffed. "Don't act like you're not happy that we haven't done that."
"Don't worry, Nevan," she chuckled. "I'm not afraid because the bond will never be completed. You push her away, call her disgusting and refuse to kiss her at your own wedding and then wonder why the bond won't form?" She leaned closer, her lips nearly brushing my ear. "Love isn't a transaction, Nevan. You can't buy it with a brooch and a birthday cake, and you can't force it by locking a woman in her room."
"Don't pretend you understand love."
"I understand it better than you do. I was born from it," she pressed her hand over my chest, and the cold of her palm sank through my skin and into my bones. The chill transformed into a slow, spreading heat that radiated outward from her touch, flooding through my veins with a warmth that was the exact opposite of everything the curse had ever given me.
"You miss this," she whispered. "Don't lie to me, Nevan."
