My gaze lifted, and my heart stopped.
When my pulse started back up, it drummed in my ears and stole my breath.
Amongst cracked pavement, the fading sound of sirens, and the taste of urban air, the yellow lights of a carousel blinked bright beneath the overcast sky. It sat static, alone and beautiful.
I walked closer, the train of my dress forgotten. My eyes burned, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Nico’s familiar presence brushed my back.
The first drops of rain fell from the sky and they chimed like music off the golden carousel.
His deep voice slipped into my thoughts. “Do you like it?”
Do I like it?
Slowly, I turned to look at him. Confusion passed through his eyes when he saw my expression. “What’s wrong?” He brushed the tear from my cheek.
The rain was warm and light, and I blinked it off my eyelashes.
“I love you,” I breathed.
His gaze burned around the edges, as the mantra of my pulse filled the space between us.
Love me too. Love me forever.
He stepped forward until his tux brushed my dress, slid his hand to my nape, and pressed his words to my ear. “And I love you, Elena Russo.”
Nico might have been a bad man, but where he lacked in morals, he more than made up for as a husband.
He loved me forever.
The End
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The Sweetest Oblivion took six months to complete, with ups and downs and sudden periods of “This is great!” to “This is a giant heap of garbage.” However, now that it’s over, I already miss writing it.
I want to thank my friends and family for their continued support, and their thoughtfulness to always ask me if I’m still writing “those porn books.” Forever and always.
To my husband. Thank you for being my rock, my inspiration, and always answering my strange questions without a blink.
To my beta readers. Tawni, you deserve your own sentence because you’re amazing, girl. Emilia, Kristin, Samantha, Elizabeth, August and a countless number of others—thank you! This book wouldn’t be what it is without each one of your suggestions. You’re my village.
To my editor, Bryony. Your attention to detail has made this novel so much better. And my proofreaders who helped make every sentence shine: Juli Burgett, Khalima Bolden, and Jessica Bucher.
To Sarah at Okay Creations for the amazing cover. And Stacey Ryan Blake for the beautiful formatting.
To the bloggers and reviewers who helped spread the word about this book. I appreciate every one of your emails, reviews, and comments. I write because I love it, but you guys make it that much more enjoyable.
Last but not least, a book is not a book without a reader, so thank you for making The Sweetest Oblivion tangible. It means the world.
Love,
Danielle xo
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ALYRIA SERIES
A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria #1)
I was a simple farm girl living in the magical land, Alyria, where men ruled and women only existed.
Call me sheltered. Call me naive. I was probably both. I never expected to be the key to Alyria’s destruction.
The journey I was on wasn’t only one to save me. But one where I had a lot of learning to do. With men. With magic. And with myself.
But I wasn’t alone. I had an escort. One I wasn’t so sure about. But one I couldn’t afford to lose and one I wasn’t so sure I could even leave.
I had many hopes. But the most important one was that my name wouldn’t become my fate.
A Girl in Black and White (Alyria #2)
My once upon a time didn’t end with happily ever after—but with blood-stained hands and cold blue eyes. The story of my life had been laid beneath my feet since childhood, but until death, I’d never known that road was paved with stones called lies.
In this city of sun and heat, cloaked in dark, both inside and out, I became somebody other than Farm Girl. There was no assassin behind my back. No, my shackles were just as tight but came in a different form.
Like Death’s icy fingers running down my spine, the ones that had gripped me for months, my past haunted my present in the guise of nostalgia. My old chains still left marks on my skin, their owner’s gaze following behind. But he didn’t know I lived. He didn’t know I was so close, that I heard his name spoken every day. That I still hated him. Until my hate started tasting suspiciously different.
One mistake and everything I’d created unraveled. A liar. Corruptor. He stood in front of me now. The air was heavy with expectation, tense with the possibilities of how this would unfold, of what he would do.
But there was always two sides to every story, and maybe in this version, the corruptor wasn’t him, but me.
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