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“I can feel your pussy begging my cock to come,” Thatcher groans. “This tight, pathetic cunt crying for my hot seed. You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”
He is my protector, my defender. A connection that will never leave or stray, no matter how it’s tested. It’s a love that stays with me in the quiet nights when I’m trapped in my head. I’ve never needed to make myself digestible for Thatcher. Never had to curb who I am or be less. I’ve never had to make myself easier to love. He has always swallowed me whole and savored every bite.
was watering cautiously. It was they who initially made the Hollow Boys into villains. We just decided that instead of trying to change their minds, we’d play the part they designed for us. We gave them anarchy; we terrorized them; we actively rebelled. I think, if anything, we taught the citizens of Ponderosa Springs one very important lesson. Do not create monsters you aren’t equipped to handle.
Alistair had made a joke the other day that I might have to invest in a leash for the killer queen, or else I’d spend the rest of my life getting rid of bodies. I’d only smiled because I knew I’d bury bodies forever if that’s what she wanted. If that’s what she needed.
“I guess you’re not interested in playing the good guy? The hero?” she snips. I laugh, cold and distant. “Not when morally gray looks this good on me.”
I’d been the first piece of music he’d ever created but the only one he’d never finished. Maybe that was because fate knew what we didn’t. That he was never meant to kill me that night like his father had requested him to do. He’d never be able to finish the song until he could do what he was truly meant to do. Love me.
“I wanted it to sound like mourning because a part of you died the night we met.” He presses his forehead to mine, letting me breathe him in. “Thank you for loving me with what remained.” “Thank you for letting me be your ghost. For seeing me,” I tell him. “I can’t wait to haunt you for the rest of our lives and the ones after that.”
We finally got our grim fairy tale. Our happily ever after. The ghost and the boy who was winter.
“If any of you try to hug me,” I warn, glancing at each of them, “I will not be held responsible for my actions.” “No one wants to touch your prickly ass.” Rook pushes off the car, shoving me with his hand. “You’re a fucking cactus.”
If I knew what would happen when this first started, all the turmoil, all the dredged-up skeletons and death, I wouldn’t change it. I’d do everything exactly the same. I meant what I told Odette. I don’t want to be a hero. But I do want the girl, and all of this led me straight back to her.
“I’m going to take some time. Figure out what my future looks like without her. I’ve been clinging to my revenge as a way to keep Rosemary alive. But nothing I do will bring her back, and I think I have to find a way to be okay with that.”
“She just wanted you to be happy,” Rook says softly. “Be happy, Silas. For Rosie, yeah?” His face doesn’t move, but his eyes, there is a smile in them. “For Rosie.”
“You are a strange, peculiar little thing, Lyra Abbott.” “Thank you.” She stands on her tippy-toes, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Do you wanna leave?” I shake my head. “I’m content where you are. Location is only semantics.” “What about if I said to the grave?” My darling phantom. How does she not realize yet that I would follow her anywhere? That she will never be alone again. My ghost. All of those grim fairy tales had only prepared her to love me. To accept the love I give her. She is made of nightmares and crimson kisses.
If she wanted my heart, I’d give it to her. She could keep it on a shelf in one of her jars—it was never mine to begin with. Not when it’s always been hers. “Death is trivial. He can’t keep you from me. I’ll follow you to the grave every time and find you in each life after.”
I don’t know why I wanted to come here before I left. I’d never spoken to Coraline Whittaker in my life. I know of her because of school, but our paths never crossed. Not a single time. We were perfect strangers who happened to clash at a tragic time.
“Are you hitting on me in a fucking hospital?” She scoffs, anger and pain all over her face. “I’m not your dead girlfriend, dude. Stop looking at me like I’m someone you can save.”
Stephen saw me there, while he was being forced into the back of a cop car. He saw me watching her, and one of the very last things he said before they shut his door was clear, simple. A warning. “Careful. That girl is cursed.”
