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

by Monty Jay

I did all of this for her. So that we could be together. And yet, she mourns him. I killed so many for her, will continue to kill them, and instead of seeking comfort in my arms, she mourns. Soon, she will see how ungrateful she has been. Soon, Stephen will own this town, and the darkened sons of Ponderosa Springs will be at the end of a baleful reign. So very soon, sweet Lyra will be mine and only mine, as it should have always been. Soon, she will see why I had to do this. Why it’s only her who can love a man like me. There will be no stopping us. Stopping me. The untouchable Hollow Boys will reap not only what they have sowed but the fruits of their legacy. Their thrones built from treacherous demands, and crowns forged from bones, are crumbling. They are weak. Breakable. Love has exposed their humanity. Here lies the thin line between gods and monsters. They will all see—Lyra will see—that those boys they mark with divinity are simply a false claim. There is no divine right and no god to protect them. They bleed, and when they do, they will flow red.

I don’t miss him, the way you miss a pair of shoes that you grew out of, a memory of a glowing summer, or even a pet you’d lost. I do not miss him. He is missing from me. A vital organ torn from my gut. A severed limb. Thatcher’s memory was what I clung to every single second when

My heart and soul were never mine. They had always been his, and now they belong to no one. They are lost, forgotten, alone. I tethered myself to him, and now he’s just…gone.

“It seems you have your priorities a little skewed if you’re treating him more like a suspect instead of a missing person.”

Thank fucking god. I was about to have an aneurysm

He is devastating. A quiet, morbid god amongst humans. I almost let my mind win. I almost believe he’s a ghost. Until— “Hello, darling phantom.”

I never thought there would be anything stronger than the urge to kill. Until I tasted her.

I know who I am. What I am capable of. Yet my mind is always left spiraling when I leave Lyra. She does this to me and always leaves me with the same question. Who am I when I’m with her?

I snort. “Your boyfriend tried to kill you. Of course the demon in the forest doesn’t freak out the girl with a fear fetish.” Briar gasps, a grin on her face as she playfully nudges the back of my head with her foot. “Low fucking blow, Abbott.”

“She means, what’s it like living with Count Dracula upstairs,” Briar answers, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Does he sleep in a coffin?”

“I don’t think finding you attractive is the problem for Thatcher,” Briar adds. “Huh?” I ask with a huff, passing the bottle in her direction. “He looks at you like he wants to be beneath your skin.” Too late for that. Far too late.

Thatcher was perfectly made, but I was made perfect for him.

my heart isn’t the only thing that calls for him, not anymore. My pussy screams for him, knowing he’s the only one who can satisfy her, the only one she wants.

“I’m disappointed, pet. I was hoping to find a man between those pale thighs. I’ve been itching to kill something.”

“What I would do if I caught another man touching you. Are you picturing me slicing him to pieces while he begs for his life? How I would make him apologize to me for ever laying his eyes on you. For stupidly thinking you belonged to anyone but me, pet.”

“Such a good fucking girl for me, pet,” he praises. “You taste like my favorite nightmare.”

“That’s right, because it’s mine, isn’t it? I ruined you for anyone else, didn’t I? I warned you.” He uses one finger to caress through my slippery folds, taunting me with pleasure that’s within reach, dangling it in front of me just to see how hard I’ll work for it. “I own you, Lyra Abbott. Your body, your soul, your heart. Even if I can’t have it, I own you.”

He’s owned me far before he took a claim on my body. Far before we knew each other. Far before this life or any life before. When the stars were dust and the universe a black, endless night. There is no real beginning for us, and there will never truly be an end. Not when the threads of fate have woven us in a never-ending loop. A love that travels lifetimes. We are a divine connection that can never be touched. Not even by the hands of death.

“Better be quiet, pet. Don’t let your friend know how good the hands of a killer feel inside your pussy.”

“I wish you’d stop me from hurting you, darling phantom,” he whispers, “because I cannot stop myself.”

I’d wanted her and don’t yet feel guilty for indulging in that desire. Not when she feels like an angel to a touch-starved demon. I might have made it my entire life not needing to touch another person, but now that I’ve had her skin against mine, it feels painful to go without.

Such a little stalker—she would enjoy keeping me forever in a glass case.

“Me, you stubborn fucking girl. I’m protecting you from me.” She gasps, mouth falling open and eyes wide. “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.”

“I’m incapable of giving you what you want.” My throat is raw. “A relationship? A man who loves you? I can never be that. You will always require more from me, and there is nothing more I can give. I’m uncaring and cold. Love doesn’t live in my world. I’m a killer, darling. That’s all I will ever be.” Vulnerability. It makes me want to squirm out of my skin.

“I don’t want to leave you empty, Scarlett. Don’t make me leave you empty.”

“Let me make this clear. Don’t ever touch her again. Don’t breathe near her. Do not exist in the same space as her. Or I will rip your fucking head from your shoulders.” He blinks, watery eyes filled with panic. Slowly, he nods, trying to keep himself as still as possible. “Good, very good.” I pat the side of his cheek, standing up and walking towards the door. “Oh, and Godfrey.” I look over my shoulder. “Keep this between us. I would sincerely hate for you to lose your job right along with your tongue.”

“Was he worth it?” I look at the girl in front of me. Waves of ebony curls frame her delicate face. She tugs off the chunky black sweater she’d been wearing, leaving her in an unholy tight T-shirt and brown pleated skirt that hangs off her waist. “No.” I press my fingers on the bridge of my nose as my eyes close. “But she was.” The line goes dead, and silence is all that’s left.

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. Far before we stood in these bodies, someone had decided she would be the keeper of my soul, knowing I would have done far too much damage to it.

“I can’t stay away from you, even when I know I should. It would be the only good thing I could do for you, Scarlett.” Lyra rubs her nose against mine, nibbling at my bottom lip before breathing. “Don’t be good. Don’t stay away. Just be with me.”

“You cook?” I question, moving to the fridge, trying to pretend I wasn’t staring. He peers at me over his shoulder, acknowledging my presence before pouring red wine into the pan, making steam erupt. “I’m fantastic with anything that requires a knife.” I snag a bottle of water, smirking. “Should I be worried about where the meat in this dish came from, Hannibal?” Thatcher rolls his eyes. “Human beings are disgusting. I don’t touch them with my bare hands, and you think I’m going to eat their flesh? Some stalker you are. Do you even know me?”

My mother wasn’t religious, I’m not religious, but if it meant keeping him forever, I’d pray.

“I think…” He trails off for a moment, as if to search for the right words. “I think I saved all my firsts for you, too.” “You’ve never—I was your first?” “I don’t like touching other people, Lyra. You think fucking them would somehow be different?”

“No matter the cruelty your hands are capable of, they will always be the one place I feel safe. How could I fear fingers that were made to touch me?”

“You’re invisible to most, this enigmatic ghost. You are a mystery to the world, Lyra, and you’ve let me solve you.”

I want to exist with him like this forever. Just me and him. The nightmare of Ponderosa Springs and his darling phantom.

If it makes me weak to crave her, then let me be weak. Being strong means nothing if I can’t have her.

I like that she’s infatuated with me, that she only has eyes for me—haunts, exists, breathes just for me. She is my obsessed angel, and I am her possessive god.

“Earn it.” I tangle my spare hand in the roots of her curls, jerking her suction-cup lips away from my neck so that she can look at me. “Grab the knife in my pocket. Make yourself bleed for me while I make you come.”

Lyra’s hand moves, the tip of her finger drawing across my skin. When I glance down, I find her painting hearts with the blood that drips from her veins. 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.

“Needy, cock-obsessed little whore,” I growl. My cock is forced onto the warmth of her body, making my hips jerk. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

History will not repeat itself this time. I will not lose her to another Pierson. Not this time. They do not win this time. This time, I get the girl.

The earth takes no time for remembrance; it simply continues as if our grief does not exist.

My father knows exactly who the copycat killer is. The body parts, the notes left in the skin, those were for the police. Those were for the boys. The roses? Henry told him to leave those for me. He knew I’d figure it out. And now he has left me no choice. It’s the last option I have if I want the people around me to make it out alive. It’s time to pay daddy dearest a visit.

Alistair: Rook do not even think about it. *Rook removed Alistair from group chat* Rook: Now that Dad’s gone. Rook: Let’s fucking torch this place.

I want a love that’s worth the fight. Consumption, unhealthy entanglement. The kind where you can’t really tell where one person ends and the other begins. I want love that hurts because it’s real. I’d always known Thatcher would be the only person who’d give that to me.

I want to memorize every groove of your mouth, I want to protect these fragile pieces of you that are too sharp for others to carry, but I have gloves now, and you can’t cut me. Even if they sliced my palms, it would be okay. For him, I’d bleed. For him, it’s worth it.

“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.”

We are a legacy of judges and lawyers. This is our heritage inside these walls. It feels poetic that I’m the one about to burn it down.

I want everything for Sage Donahue because she deserves it. I’d grab the world with my bare hands, burnt and bloody, for her.

This is my arena. Fire is my weapon, and I am more than ready to wield it.