I have problems. Really big fucking problems. Christian Reeves is one of those problems. He’s perfect. He’s everything Elena could ever want. Handsome. Rich. Doting. He’d do anything to see her smile—to see the way those subtle golden flecks in the brown of her eyes sparkle when she’s happy. I’m not perfect. Far from it—I am unstable. I am broken and my soul is empty. I have nothing to offer her except pain and suffering and lies. Yet I can’t stay away from her. The only reason I haven’t killed Christian Reeves is because of her, so he should consider himself fucking lucky.
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