Kiera Cass

“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll do it. But know now that I don’t want to be some princess. All I want is to be your wife.”
He stroked my hair.
“You will be.”

I almost felt bad for the girl who ended up with him. That would probably be the most boring life imaginable.

He radiated waves of formality. I wrinkled my nose at the idea of just being in the same room with him.

“Are you all right, my dear?” he asked me.
“I am not your dear.”

You ask for such simple things, I can’t deny you.

“I hate him! I loved you! I wanted you; all I ever wanted was you!”

big hitch in her brilliant plan was me. I didn’t think I was a particularly disobedient daughter, but this was where I drew the line.

I didn’t want to be royalty. And I didn’t want to be a One. I didn’t even want to try.

I whispered into his neck. “If anything, you’re going to realize I’m not good enough.”

His lips were at my ear. “Darling, you’re perfect.”

Break it a thousand times if you like.

Break it a thousand times if you like