Legend (A Gothic Shade of Romance, #2)

by Karina Halle

“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.”

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.”

Is this what the Hessian soldier looked like before he lost his head? If so, perhaps the world was doing him a favor.

One week later I wake up in my bed to find it empty. I spend the day with my heart in my hands, waiting for him to return. He never does.

“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.”

the girl blinks at the grey sky. She isn’t dead, not yet. It’s enough to make me move, stumble to my knees beside her. “Lotte,” I say to her, my voice a quiver, placing my hand at her cheek. Her eyes look at me, a light green, and though I don’t know this girl, I feel like I do. She is hovering in that space between here and the veil, about to leave, but still present. The light is going out of her eyes like they did with Marie, but it’s leaving slower. She wants to stay. May you find peace, I say to her using the voice, and I’m surprised to find my magic comes back to me. She stares right into my eyes, and I think she hears me. I reach down and I grab her hand, her cold, frail hand, letting her know she’s not alone when she goes. It’s what I wish I could have done with Marie instead of what actually happened. All around us I hear crying and screaming and yelling and more and more people rushing to the scene, but right now it’s just this girl and me on the damp stone and a spreading lake of blood.

Then I see the life leave her. It moves out of her like strands of gold, out of the crown of her head and twisting toward the sky until it’s carried away in the breeze, pushed toward the lake.

Because I just saw a girl die in front of me, and it’s the second time someone has died right in front of me. And maybe that means nothing, but it feels like something.

“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.”

Both of them stare down at me, and I’ve never felt more on display in my whole life. Then Crane says, “Open your legs and show Brom what a pretty cunt you have.” And now I’ve never felt more on display.

“Tears of pleasure taste the same as tears of pain,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as if it’s another fact to file away, and I can’t help but break into a smile because even in the midst of all of this, he’s still curious. He’s still Professor Crane.

In this moment I am no longer a witch. I am a goddess. And I’m being consumed by two dark gods.

Please is such a simple word until someone says it on their knees.

“You’re…” Ray begins, and I don’t have the strength to look at him. “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.”

Tears spring to my eyes, taking me by surprise, but I manage to keep them at bay. The last thing he needs is to hear me harp on about how much I love him.

“Love is involuntary,” he says, his voice quiet and harsh. “I love you, Ichabod Crane. I love you against my own will.”

“It’s not the drug,” he continues, running his thumb over my lip as I stare at him, frozen. “I know that’s what you’re going to say, but it’s not that. The feeling was there before. It’s always been there. I love you because that’s just how it is. It’s as automatic as taking my next breath.”

“Oh, look,” Kat says gazing past me at the roof. I glance over my shoulder to see a swarm of blue and black butterflies flying just above the hole in the barn and watch as they slowly start to fly down inside toward us. To my surprise they start landing on Kat’s limbs, her hair, her face, then they do the same to me. She laughs, pure joy, and I join in too. I make a promise to myself to never forget this.