Leather & Lark (Ruinous Love, #2)

by Brynne Weaver

But I was naive to think Andrew was right for me with his hint of a bad boy edge. Those two well-placed tattoos seemed hot. That perpetually disheveled hair gave off a no-shits-given attitude. Even his inability to stick to a job seemed legit, though I don’t know why. Somehow, I’d convinced myself that he was a real-deal rebel. Then he fucked our friend Savannah while I was out of town and I realized, he’s not a rebel. He’s a loser. And not only that. Once I discovered he’d cheated, I stole his phone, and I learned just how wrong I’d been all along about my so-called boyfriend. I found messages to girls, some of whom were too young to know better than to trust a hot drummer who called them beautiful and promised them all his attention. I found more than just a bad boy. I found a fucking predator. One who had slipped right under my defenses. And years ago, I promised myself one thing: Never again.

Predators like Andrew abound on this beautiful earth like a fucking locust invasion. Sometimes it seems like no place is free of infestation, even fortresses that are meant to be sacred, like Ashborne. Beautiful and grand. Secluded. Safe. Just like in nature, the prettiest things are often the most poisonous.

Back then I had no power. But things are different now. Predators might make beautiful promises, but mine is simple and unfussy. Never. Again. It might not make for a pretty vow, but I do my best to make the execution of my promise fucking spectacular.

“Atmosphere is so important in these moments, don’t you think?” I ask as I bring up “Firework” by Katy Perry and turn it up to full volume. Predictable? Yes. Perfection? Also yes.

There’s power in finding secrets and blowing them up in a beautiful, bright light.

she’s just like me fr

but I have a role to play, and while chaos agent might fit the bill, murderer definitely does not.

“He’s a fucking stranger,” I tell myself out loud when my thoughts just aren’t enough. “After tonight, you’ll never see him again.”

guess i’m about to figure out whether pizza & beer is ruined for me

“Okay,” she says. “But if he hurts you, I swear to God I will take his fucking eyes.” “Sounds good to me.” “Slowly. With a rusty spoon. Like, a full-on gouging. Rough edges. Amateur-looking shit. Really shoddy work.”

He probably thinks this is just as batshit crazy as everyone else does, myself included. Well, everyone except Ethel, who looks like she’s having the time of her life.

“Geallaim duit a bheith i mo fhear céile dílis duit, fad a mhairimid le chéile,” Lachlan whispers before his lips press to mine in a kiss that blankets my heart with an electric charge. Need and denial. Heartache and loss. I feel everything as his mouth slants over mine and I drown in his scent of amber and mint. He kisses me like I’m exactly what I am. His key to survival. And I kiss him back as though I’m saying goodbye to something that was never mine in the first place. Because I’m choosing love. Just not my own.

SLOANE: Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’s your wife in this weird ass marriage that neither of you will tell me about, so if you want to play the part of husband, how about this novel idea: TALK TO HER.

SLOANE: If you’re having trouble with your “marriage” and talking to your “wife,” why don’t you crack a fucking book. A ROMANCE book, not more of your “history of leather” bullshit. It’s literally an instruction manual for dumbasses like you.

shit edward would text to bella

“Lark Montague doesn’t just have a ‘spiteful streak.’ She takes the idea of retribution and makes it into a full-on glitter parade of vengeance.”

I don’t even take off my jacket before I start looking. For what, I’m not sure. I just feel as though if I’ve been missing pieces of this woman for so long, maybe there are treasures she doesn’t want anyone to find.

I guess that’s the irony of being married to someone I have absolutely no desire to make happy. For once, I don’t have to try so damn hard to project one thing while I feel another, and the realization of how exhausting that is settles into my thoughts. But with Lachlan, I can turn the hologram off and just exist. … Well. That’s a fucking terrifying epiphany.

“Do you know how these two met? It’ll be a great story for the grandkids. He tossed her in the trunk of a car.”

“Lark never took the Covaci name,” Ethel says, her voice low and quiet. “She always said she would never leave that piece of her dad, Sam, behind. But she did it. For you.” I can feel Lachlan watching me in the rearview. But I can’t bear to meet his gaze. “Your wife just broke her family’s heart,” Ethel says. “And she did it to save your life.”

“Stop right there, Lachlan Kane. You will not Keanumatize me into forgiveness. That is fucking blasphemous.”

“No. Forcing me to not choose you.” Though he grasps for control of his emotions, he’s as powerless as I am to stop them. “You’re brave as hell. But you’re my person, Lark. I can’t do this without you.”