Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3) by Katerina Martinez (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

easier to make if Radulf had been in control right now instead of Cillian, but when his expression softened and he took a hasty step toward me, I knew, it was him.

My Prince.

I stretched my other hand toward him, halting him as he approached. He frowned. “What is it?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. “I have something to tell you,” he said.

“Tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, I let the dagger I’d been holding behind my back fall to my side, bringing it fully into view. Cillian turned his eyes on it, then looked at me again. There was no anger on his face, no fear. A little surprise, but that was to be expected, considering I’d just pulled a knife on him.

“I met my parents,” I said.

“Your parents?” he asked.

A pause. “They’re both dead…” I looked at the dagger in my hand, then back at him. “They told me I had to kill you.”

“And you believe them?”

I nodded. “I believe what I saw, what I heard. I believe the prophecy. You and I both know what you have inside of you, but neither of us know what will happen if we try to pull it out. The easiest thing to do, the easiest way of stopping the darkness from coming is to kill you.”

He was silent for a moment. “Is it really that simple?”

“I wish I knew. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but I hate not knowing things.”

“I think I’ve come to learn that about you, yes.” He paused. “Are you here to kill me, Dahlia?”

I gripped the knife so tightly, my knuckles turned white. “I am the white wolf,” I said, “Without me, these people will die, and every second you live increases Radulf’s strength. What happens when he takes hold of you for good?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if we can’t kill him, then? What if he’s too powerful?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he repeated. Then he took a step forward, extending his arms out to the side. “But you don’t need to justify yourself any longer.”

“You want this?”

“If it will keep you and these people safe, then do it. Plunge it into my heart. Strike hard, fast, and true. Don’t let me get back up, don’t let him take control.”

I stared at him, my hand trembling, my breathing coming out ragged. “You’re sure about this?” I asked. “You want me to kill you?”

“I would do anything for you, belore.”

My eyes shut hard, tears stinging, my heart pounding. I believed him. I knew, if I was to race up to him and drive the dagger into his heart, he wouldn’t stop me. He wouldn’t stop me, and he would die, moments later, on this floor, simply because it was what I wanted.

The thing was, I was ready to kill him. My entire body was primed and running hot. It felt like I hadn’t calmed down in hours, maybe even in days. I was wound tight and ready to explode at a moment’s notice, and maybe if he had been anyone else, I would’ve uncoiled and attacked—but I couldn’t.

I dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor. Slowly, I kneeled, and as my knees touched the ground, I shed my human form and became the white wolf. It was getting easier, now; the transition happened in an instant, with little more than a thought.

I looked up at him, quietly watching him from where I sat. Then I got up and I charged, suddenly, catching him off guard. The Prince took a step back, startled. When I leapt into the air, I assumed my human form again, but instead of diving away from me, he caught me and held me.

I wrapped my legs around his abdomen, cupped his face, and kissed him, then, drinking deeply of his lips. The Prince shut his eyes and grabbed hold of me more firmly, his lips parting to accept my searching tongue. When the kiss broke for an instant, I pressed my forehead against his. I was naked in his arms, laid bare for him.

“I can’t do it,” I said, breathless. “No one can make me kill you, not even my parents.”

“What if you’re making a mistake?” he asked.

“There’s another way. There has to be.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then we burn together.” I kissed him again. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else before.”

“So do I.”

“Then tell me. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Dahlia you must know—”

—I plunged my hands into his hair and kissed him again, pressing my lips against his like my life depended on it. “I don’t care what you think I know,” I gasped, “I want you to say it, and then I want you to take me on that bed and make me yours this time.”

The Prince turned off to the side and carried me to his bed. There he set me gently down, arching over me with one hand on the bed and another on my cheek. I kept my legs wrapped around his waist, holding myself against him. He kissed my forehead, then the corner of my mouth, and then my lips.

When the kiss broke, he paused, his lips hovering over mine, his hot breath breaking against my face like a wave. “I started falling for you the moment I saw you,” he said.

My words caught in my throat.

“You were the one whose name was written in my stars,” he said, “You were the one who I thought of when I was alone, the one I wanted to see, the only one I cared to spend time with. You, Dahlia, are the one that fate chose for me, but I am the one who chose you.”

I touched his face with my fingertips, brushing my fingers up and along the length of his horns, but I kept quiet. I didn’t think I would’ve been able to speak if I’d wanted to. Breathless, adrenalized, and so desperately wet for him, I waited, my fingers trembling as I touched him.

His hand moved from my