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To all the good girls with fire in their bones, who drift into fantasies of being a queen by day and a slut by night. This one’s for you. Burn, girl. Burn.
Some say time is our most valuable commodity, the only thing we can never get back. For me, time is a storm in which I am forever lost.
I’m not one to settle. If I can’t have the blaze I desire, I’d rather celebrate a life of ashes than fool myself into believing the warmth of an ember is enough.
“It’s a villain romance, and I had the noise-canceling on the AirPods. The racket a plane makes can be imposing.” “Villain romance?” Are her book boyfriends villains? That could work. She wiggles her head, a whimsical grin coasting up her cheeks. “He’s bad news, but she can’t resist. Good in print, not in practice.”
As much as her sharp tongue arouses me, I find it being tied charming.
Here in the candlelight with my unlikely groom, I realize, this path may be off, but I’ve always loved twisted fairy tales. Gavin Wells might not be the hero of my story, but he may be my dark knight.
“Anyone can be the light when the sun is shining. It takes a goddamn force to strike with a crash so bright that even the outlines of the raging clouds are illuminated.”
“Liam, I love you like a brother, but if you value your life, you’d be wise to keep your fucking hands off my wife.”
“I don’t usually repeat myself, but for the sake of clarity, this is it. You’re mine now. Every part of you. You’ve been mine from the start, but now, you know it too. Understand?”
“Don’t test me. Someone touches you, they don’t disappear or lose a finger; they lose their life.”
“It’s been years.” “Years?” I gasp. “Why?” “Two since I’ve even touched someone, and that didn’t go anywhere. And no other woman has ever been in our home, other than housekeeping.” His gaze dances all over my face. “I was waiting.” “Waiting for what?” He sighs, both palms rising to cradle my cheeks. “You, Little Storm. I was waiting for you.”
“Your family died in a tornado, but you call me Little Storm. Why?” His arms tighten around me. “Sometimes, storms come to decimate everything we deem important. Other times, they come to clear our path.” “Which one am I?” “Both,” he rasps.
“You changed everything, Ivanna. Turned it all upside down. The moment I saw you, I knew I was lost to whatever path you carved for me.” Sometimes, the way he touches me or phrases things, it’s like a whisper in disguise. A ripple in a pond.
I love it out here, no matter the weather. The way the sunrise colors the water and the moonlight whispers across it. The way something as small as a pebble can change it. I always feel hopeful out here, like maybe—even though in the grand scheme of the world, I’m somewhat ordinary—I can make big changes. I don’t need to be the pond. I like the element of surprise in being the tiny pebble who shakes it.”
They pretended to be mine, to love me, to become my family, supplying them with ample time to understand exactly what I was capable of. Who they were creating me to be. It’s sad really. A massive oversight. And they call themselves the best. Now, they’ll choke on the smoke of their own deceit. The spores of their arrogance. The air is toxic, boys.
“Love is not what you’ve given her. Ivy is the embodiment of karma. She gives what she gets.
Ryker cackles, spilling another glass of whiskey into his mouth. “Nothing worse than an underestimated badass bitch.”
“No moment before you was living. You, Little Storm, are my life, the light striking through the darkness, as close to Heaven as I’ll ever get.”
Dandelion dreams. Blown and scattered and lost to the frigid breeze.
When you strip away the people and love and purpose from a life, what’s left to live for? What marks it as living, other than another day toward the grave? That’s the most morbid thought I’ve ever had.
“I never wanted a doe, baby. Anyone can command the weak or steer the docile. It takes a god to conquer the storm.”
