The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys, #4)

by Nikki St. Crowe

I’m no artist, but I’m an expert at violence and I will paint a fucking masterpiece with your blood.”

“I can feel it,” he says, a soft utterance, a quiet secret. “Feel what?”

“Your love,” he says. “In my chest.” He kisses my cheek, lingering close. “I can feel your love like a million golden stars in the endless abyss that is me.”

“Now come on,” I say. “Let’s dry our eyes and go murder our mother.”

“A man who has nothing has nothing to lose,”