“You'll let Yulia stitch you up without a single complaint,” he continued. Breathlessly, I nodded. “And if I find out you’ve been anywhere near Khaos again”—his grip tightened—“not even a river of your tears will save him. Do you understand me?” I pulled my lip between my teeth, liking that condition the least. Though keeping my distance from Khaos was better than the alternative. When I nodded, his hand slipped from my face, leaving a hot impression behind. I wanted a verbal promise, but the subtle look in his eyes seemed to be more than enough. I just compromised with D’yavol. My heart clenched with all kinds of naive assumptions: Maybe this promise would open up another; maybe deep beneath Ronan’s hard shell, lay a wonderland made of chocolate; maybe I’d found his saving grace. Though my hopeful musings nose-dived when he left with a parting word. “Don’t ever fucking disobey me in front of my men again.” OceanofPDF.com