Clare

“Your immortality will bring Infinity to your knees.” Her captor whispered in her ear, the tip of his tongue wetting her earlobe, making her stomach wrench, at the sickly sweet scent assaulting her nose, “Too bad I have been ordered to kill you. If it was up to me, I’d make you my consort.”

She snarled, “Bastard,” through clenched teeth, not wanting Nathan to lose it. The crushing sound of her wrist bone-breaking weakened her. Clare ignored her body’s need to release the pain by screaming, and snorted, her whimper just a whisper, “With your putrid breath I won't even let you kiss my ass.”