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.

OH MY GOD ITS CONNOR IT HAS TO BE THIS IS SO FUCKED

I warned them what I would become if they took him from me. Now there is no need to fear the reaper. They should fear the woman who loves him.

“If this was a horror movie,” I say, “you’d be dead.” “I was being nice and letting you finish staring.” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head and exposing the skin of her lower stomach. My jaw tightens, and something warm burns my face. A knowing grin tugs at the corner of her lips as she lazily pulls her eyes from the book, unshaken by my arrival.

Is Thatcher Pierson BLUSHING??!

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

He may fool everyone else with his hip, cool teacher act, but I kill men as a hobby.

“Lyra, I’m so sorry.” Conner holds his hand up, trickles of blood decorating his mouth. “Please understand, that was⁠—” I watch his eyes widen at whoever has walked into the room with us. My breath catches in my throat. And a voice, grim as liquid night, pervades the air. “The worst mistake of your fucking life.”

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.

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?”

This fitted gown was a much better idea three macarons ago. But I wholeheartedly believe no dress is pretty enough to pass up sweets. It was stunning when Briar fastened the last button at the nape of my neck and would be just as beautiful with my bloated stomach.

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

“The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.” “To be seen as ivory and gold”—that’s what I’d written on the page years ago in this copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. The world is changed because you are made of midnights and crimson. The curves of your lips rewrite my purpose.—T.

“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.”