Don’t know who says what and I do not care. I want them out.
To leave me here alonewith her.
Because this girl, this perfect little doll on her knees before me, she is all that matters now. When she smiles, my body vibrates in response.
“Hello, my King.” Her voice is silk stretched thin over steel, sliding straight into my bones, and I’d give up my crown to keep it there.
“Hello…mate.”
Chapter Thirty
Haide
Black lace clings to every curve and I spin in front of the mirror, watching the sequin patterns glisten with different angles of light. Emmie did good. So fucking good.
My thumb brushes over one of the patterns. What even are these?
I tilt my head, studying the lines. That better not be a fucking flower…no. Funny. It almost looks like the angles of live plants that breathe oxygen into the ocean.
My examination continues up my torso, where the top cuts deep, my breasts nearly spilling out, and finally ending on dark black lips. At first, I was hesitant. Who rocks up to a royal ball with black lips? But then I remembered who the fuck I was.
Me. Haide.I’drock up to a royal ball with black fucking lips.
My hair tumbles down my back, as black as the dress, but for the first time ever, this particular chaos is tamed. It no longer rages down my spine in a violent waterfall, but rather glides in sharp, heavy waves.
I look like a Queen.
I look like death.
I look likehis.
The thought slams into me, unwelcome, and I bare my teeth at my reflection.Fuck.When did I start thinking like that? Whendid I startwantingto?
I drag a finger along the edge of the mirror, smudging the silvered glass. The Haide staring back at me isn’t the same one he stole many weeks ago. That Haide would’ve laughed in my face if I told her she’d ever entertain the idea of amate—let alone a fuckingRoyal. That Haide would’ve gutted me for even suggesting it.
But that Haide didn’t knowhim. Not like this.
I spin around, holding my breath with a pressed palm over my belly. Fuck. What have I gotten myself into? This world is so different than the one I came from. It’s twisted, and fake, and somewhat manic at times.
My fingers bite into my stomach.
“Pull some shit again, and I’ll show you exactly what it means to be mine.”
I should’ve stabbed him all the times he laid claim to me—as if I was some pawn in a game I didn’t care to participate in.
Iwantedto.
But I didn’t.
My hands slam onto the vanity, fingers digging into the wood like I can carve my way out of this mess. That damn bond thrums under my skin—always there, alwayspulling—like some sick joke of a leash tying me to him.
I’ve fought it. Ignored it. Told myself it was nothing.
But you don’t get to lie to wildfire and expect it not to burn you alive.
And Legend? He’s not just fire.
He’s the goddamnmatch.
