The Kiss Thief

To be alive and not really living was a terrible curse.

Slowly, I watched to my utter shock as Wolfe began to lower himself down to his knees. I choked on my breath, unable to tear my eyes from the scene unfolding in front of me. My husband, the proud, take-no-bullshit, arrogant bastard was kneeling, begging for me. What’s more, he didn’t look an inch less superior than he did walking into this room. He tilted his face up, allowing me an angle from which I could see him clearly.

I was Nemesis, the goddess of retribution.