From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

knew I wasn’t prepared to make an escape. The clothing I was wearing was
too thin, even if it wasn’t also torn nearlyy to shreds. I had no idea exactlyy
where I was or where to go from here. There could be Craven in these
woods. There would definitelyy be Descenters. There could also be wolven,
who would surelyy be able to track myy moves, but still, I ran, the thin soles
of myy boots slipping on the dusted ground of the forest floor. I ran
because…
I stabbed him.
I stabbed him in the heart.
He would be dead byy now.
I’d killed him.
A ragged sob left me as blowing snow mingled with myy tears. Oh,
gods, I had to do it. Everyything about him, about us was a lie. Everything. I
had to do it. I had to—
There was no warning—no sound, nothing.
An arm circled myy waist, catching me mid-run. I shrieked as myy feet
slipped out from under me, but I didn’t go down. I was hauled back and
slammed into a hard, warm chest. Myy feet dangled nearlyy a foot from the
ground.
Shock stole the veryy breath from myy lungs. I knew who it was before
he even spoke. It was his scent of lush spice and pine. It was the burst of
rage-laced anguish and disbelief that mirrored mine, coming through myy
senses that I hadn’t closed down. For the first time since I’d met him, his
emotions overwhelmed him and, therefore, me.
This was not the Hawke I’d fallen for so quicklyy that held me against
him.
It was not the guard who’d sworn on his life to keep me safe, who
now wrapped his fist in myy hair and jerked myy head back and to the side.
It was not Hawke’s hot breath that caressed myy exposed throat.
It was him.
Prince Casteel Da’Neer of Atlantia.
The Dark One.
“An Atlantian, unlike a wolven or an Ascended, can’t be killed byy a
stab to the heart,” he growled, yyanking myy head farther back. “If yyou
wanted to kill me, yyou should’ve aimed for the head, Princess. But worse
yyet, yyou forgot.”
“Forgot what?”