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

by Monty Jay

“I crave you,” I exhale, the admission slicing my throat on its way out. “My body wants you every second of the day and twice as much at night. I want you in the most unhinged ways, ways that would scare you.”

“Thatcher, please,” he begs, jerking in the chair. “You are not your father. Don’t be this man.” I pull the knife back from his skin, twirling it between my fingers, rotating the blade along my palm absent-mindedly. “You’re right, I’m not.” I nod in agreement. “I’m much worse.”

My lack of a soul wasn’t because of the evil that had infested my mother’s womb or my father’s corrupt DNA. No, I didn’t have one because it belonged to her. I think when we were created, instead of splitting our spirits in half, they gave both of them to her in order to keep them safe. To remind me, when the time was right, that all I am is hers to carry.

“I don’t want to be perfect if it means I have to live without you.”

“I think I knew you in a past life. Do you think that’s crazy?” My fingertips trace the lines of his collarbone. “No.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “But me wanting to know you in every life after this one might be.”

“I want a constant reminder of who my home is.”

“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.”