She should not crave him, not now, especially not now, not after what he’s done to her.
Once, she loved him, but now, he and his orc army are bursting in on her wedding ceremony. Now, he rips the skirts of her gown, lays her down on the altar, and has her there, in front of everyone.
A woman can’t forgive a man that, ravaging her, killing her fiancé, keeping her prisoner, staging an uprising against the entire country, killing her kind.
He’s always been an orc, and she’s always been an elf. They are not even the same species. So, it’s always been impossible between them, but then everything in this rugged land is impossible, everything is savage, everything is raw and cruel—beautiful, a terrible kind of beauty—but impossible.
He has a soul as black as midnight.
And he hates her, anyway. Maybe she has done her share of selfish things in the past. Maybe she is not so righteous herself.
But, no matter what she has done, no woman deserves to be violated in front of a crowd.
So.
She should hate him now.
She should not crave him.
She should not flirt with him when she spits defiant words in his face. She should not be swayed to the orc’s side against the elves. And she definitely should not kiss him.
She. Should. Not.
