Outcast To Queen: The Knight's Vengeful Bride

e...am I so much

oom, lazy and deliberately saccharine

ke a bowl of soup without salt-bland, boring, just a tool to keep my famil

s triumphant

grief so hot it felt like rage. On the bed, tangled in the sheets she had slept in ju

ht had begu

rm container of tomato soup against her che

had been telling her for weeks that his stomach was both

s of Manhattan, smearing the neon lig

the collection of keys was a silver one, heavier than the rest, cold again

of the rain. She pulled up to the curb, tilting her

already asleep

the soup in his fridge for him to find in the

nd man named George, gave her a familiar nod, but tonight his e

g, Ms.

Nasty weath

walls reflecting her hopeful face. Her long b

e slid the silver key into the lock, but the bolt didn't catch. The door wasn't lo

se tightened i

lock it? Or... do

r ear to the c

le

soft laugh, followed by a suppressed

ged. Her breath ca

owing cold. He likes those trashy horror films

open. The edge of the soup container bump

too still, the air thick wi

high heels. They weren't hers. They were e

y Hayes, just last week when Dorathy h

face. Her stomach dropped a

d Dorath

he slipped off her shoes and moved across the cold marble floor

r like a blade b

off the engagement with Chloe?" It was Do

turning to ice. The edges of

gaged to Chloe to keep my family out of my business, letting them think I'd built a

nail driven in

dies tangled in the sheets of the bed

. And Dorathy, her sister, her golden hair spread acros

, tell m

nother string o

's lungs in a sing

iner slipped from

The lid popped off, and thick, red tomato soup

roze. Their heads sn

es, then curdled into horror a

shriek, pulling the sh

his mouth, but no words came out as he s

en eyes were wild-shattered, but blazing with a grief so hot it felt like rage.

hy

ckening speed. A cruel smile twisted her lips. "Because Brand

side, shielding her with his body as if Chloe

e mumbled, the words thin and

word. It cracked in her mou

guilty. Her, standing in the doorway, pathetic and broken.