Paxton whimpered, shooting pain through me. He sounded so hurt, so broken. I hugged him tighter, realizing now that my tears weren't from the pain in my arms, but the pain that Paxton was feeling. He fell on top of me, wrapping his arms around me. His claws were no longer there, but he was still trembling. "Everything's going to be okay." I repeated over and over softly. He breathed in my scent, slowly calming down. "I thought you were gone," he whispered painfully against me. He sounded so vulnerable. "I'm right here," I said quietly into his ear. His arms tightened around me yet again. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me ever again." His voice cracking at the end. "Promise me. Promise me you'll stay with me." The desperation in his voice nearly broke my heart. Who knew that such a strong, powerful man could be so lost inside? Who knew that he could be so broken? "I promise." Little did I know, that promises were meant to be broken. *Cover by Maytijessen

A Princess sleeps hidden in the mountains. An evil Queen rules the land. And curses are a way of life. Eira knows of only one way to end the Spinner's Curse: find the Princess, awaken her, and finally set to rights the evil that has destroyed a kingdom. But with a Huntsman seeking to steal her heart and a Queen determined to keep her crown, Eira will have to rally an army to end both the Kingdom's curse and her own.

He looked over at me in the dimness, fingers loose in my grip. "You are hurting me," he said, without interest. He had caked powder on his already pale skin, all of one shade except for points made by a hot pencil. Though it was no longer the mode at court, the new fashion more ostentatious and overdrawn, he still favored it, and as I did. My fingers crept up his wrist. I felt rough punctures, half healed and raw, a scattering of them, and I pulled. Laurent could not resist, weakened by the drawing of his blood. My vocal cords had been severed by the younger one's teeth, and so I could not speak, but I pushed up his sleeve, the luxury of his white linen, and found his arm colored like a polluted river. I touched the bites with my fingertips, ten, fifteen, twenty. "I have felt your judgment already," L whispered, trying to pull his arm back, "I have felt it these now two hundred years. Judgment judgment. Cry not. Is it pity? You are a cold thing, without heart, to judge me for what I do. Prideful toad." His arm muscles worked against my grip beneath his blood bruised skin. "Unhand me. Wretched, lye-broken flesh." After a time, he made a sound like a trapped fox, a dying child's keen, and gave up, lying back on the bed such that his hair fell across my face. My other hand found his neck and stroked him. "You will not know what it feels like, good heart," he said to me, softly, doing me one of his gentle nips of an insult, "for love to change you in an instant." He relaxed under my stroking, and his tone softened. "I only meant to help him die." ** After his untimely death, the story of the vampire "L" comes together. Devotees tell the story from many points of view across history, painting a portrait of a man crushed by great loves, desperation, and the indifferent march of time. featured 3/9/16 complete 8/31/16 Editing, as of 5/11/2018. Log: 0/129 chapters edited. 0 added. Cover by @ferret-bird