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“I grew up hearing that sodomy was a sin,” he muses, his fingers tracing shapes on my skin. “The problem is, I’m so good at sinning.” I can hear him smile. “It took time to dissect what it all meant. My attraction to men being on the same level as my attraction to women. It can be terrifying living in a world that is primed to not accept who you truly are. Isn’t it?”
“I want you to sin with me,” he whispers, his voice raw with desire. My cock immediately hardens. Yes. Yes, I will sin with you, sir. His grip on my neck tightens and he pulls me back down into the bed.
“I’ve had more time to adjust to the idea of you and Kat together than you’ve had adjusting to the idea of her and I together. But make no mistake about it, pretty boy, that witch is mine.”
“Fuck you.” “Uh uh.” I give him a quick smile, smacking his shoulder with the straps. “I believe I was the one fucking you.”
After a life of loss and secrets, I’m choosing to be wicked. And, my lord, it feels impossibly good.
“You can look at him all you want,” Crane rasps between my thighs, his lips brushing over where I’m aching and wet, “so as long as you remember you’re mine to taste and touch and fuck.”
“I can still taste your cum inside her, pretty boy,” he comments, his voice tight. “I hate to admit it, but I like the flavor of you mixed together.”
“She is mine,” the horseman rasps at me, his voice sounding like rusty metal, his breath smelling of rotting meat. “She has been promised to me through the ages. You will not stand in our way.”
You want to watch what happens to the world. But I can tell you what happens to the world, Mr. Crane. This world burns. Eventually this world will burn and all that’s left will be ash…and us witches.”
“My beautiful, sweet Kat,” he whispers to me, his eyes wild and burning as they gaze deep into mine. “You are an obsession that borders psychosis.”
“What a strange thing it is to cry,” I mutter, watching as a teardrop falls from my face and down to the ground between us. “What a strange thing to have our hearts bleed in this way that it comes out from our eyes.”
“You’re a demon.” “I’m not a demon,” I whisper to him, running my fingers down Marie’s lifeless arm. “I’m just damned.”
“Love is involuntary,” he says, his voice quiet and harsh. “I love you, Ichabod Crane. I love you against my own will.”
Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? I’m the product of evil, and we finally have the proof. I was born to be a soldier in a demon’s war.”
Blood runs deep, and it holds tight,
When you’ve been controlled by someone for so long, you forget what freedom even looks like.
