Page 53 of Stolen
The Demon Lord.
The one who wrecked me.
The one who stole me away from everything I knew.
And even crazier? He makes me want to stay.
It feels silly, maybe even dangerous, but—gods—I miss him.
Is that insane?
I mean, sure, the wholeabducted by a seven-foot-tall fantasy man with wingssituation might raise a few red flags.
Wings? Can you believe it?
And horns.
My face burns as I remember the way he came apart when I stroked his horns.
Who knew that was a Demon’s sexy place?
I bite my lip and sigh.
Any good book girl will tell you that last night? That was the stuff of fantasy.
That was the moment the heroine falls hard and fast, and suddenly, the world tilted on its axis and everything—I mean, everything—starts to make sense.
And yeah, I know what you're thinking.
I shouldn't be so complacent. I shouldn’t be swooning.
But no one—no one—has ever made me feel the way Alaric does.
Like I’m more than a body.
More than a nuisance.
Like I matter.
Growing up, I was never anyone’s priority.
My parents were always too busy with each other, their problems, their affairs, their wine glasses.
I was the afterthought.
The responsibility neither of them asked for.
The one who made her own lunches, who walked herself to school in too-small shoes and came home to an empty house.
No bedtime stories. No hugs. No warmth.
So yeah, maybe that’s why I’m clinging so hard to this impossible thing now.
To this dark-eyed, too-handsome man who looks at me like I’m the fucking magic even though he’s the one who’s magical.
This is my chance—maybe my only chance—to believe in something more.
To live the dream I only ever thought I’d read about.
