The Blood We Crave: Part Two (The Hollow Boys, #4)

by Monty Jay

Tiny, bloody hearts. They connect and leak down my chest, drying in messy strokes. She’s covering me in them. Marking my skin with the proof of her obsession. And I let her because I’m tipsy. Blood drunk on a girl intent on loving me until it kills her.

“I feel things sometimes, I think. They’re these physical reactions to certain situations, but I can never identify them.”

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.