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There are not many people I allow into my space, but Ben kind of forced his way into it and told me to go fuck myself. I love him for that.
That one, though. I’d bet he uses his dick like a weapon, serving up a raw, rugged ride. My favorite kind.
Watch out, Little London, ’cause I’m coming for you, and if you’re a good girl, I might let you come for me too.
There were no butterflies in my belly from that kiss because he slaughtered every single one of them with a flick of his tongue.
will go to Rathe U without a fight, do what my mother says, because she’s right. There is not a damn thing in this realm or the next that could bring me to my knees. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
“There’s something so enticing about all the trouble you can get into when the sun has burned to ash and all that’s left is the hidden cloak of midnight.”
“Fan of the twisted then?” “What can I say?” My head tilts as I allow myself to take in what he’s wearing. Casual jeans, Jordans, and a clean white tee. “The dark is where I hide.”
“I like a good punishment now and then. It’s good for my black soul.”
He’s like a toxic concoction of every poison created, and I’m pretty sure I’d shoot that shit back happily. Straight into my fucking veins.
‘If you find something you can’t cut at the throat at a moment’s notice and take pleasure in the picture their blood paints at your feet, take some Devil’s Drop and end yourself, ’cause you’re fucked either way.’
He was a hungry wolf and I was his prey, the fucked-up kind who wanted to be caught.
“What if I said I have always wanted to play with the devil, if only to see how bad it would burn?”
“And so the first one falls.”
I’m a monster, Little London… His heady whisper fills my head, and I shudder as fear buries itself in my belly. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
She’s destroying me by existing and I fucking hate her for it. If only I wasn’t unequivocally obsessed with her, too…
“You’re in my world now.” Knight roughly releases my chin. “Welcome to Rathe.’’
His hand flies to my jaw again, and I watch as the anger that was just there slowly transforms into a dark smirk. It’s wicked. The kind you’d imagine the devil to give you right after you sign your soul away and he prepares to take his first bite.
“Tell me that you’re worthy, my little mate.”
He laughs darkly and I swear it leaves bite marks all over my exposed flesh.
An angry Deveraux is deadly. But a threatened Lacroix can be just as bad.
These boys aren’t what I thought—oh no—they are worse.
In Rathe, we Bleed.
