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“The dark is for people who are too cowardly to face their actions in the light,”
“Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.” Cade gawked at the sight of Blackwell’s tall frame, but his expression quickly soured as he spat, “Incredible, even Demons have whores—”
Blackwell grabbed Cade’s wrist and twisted his arm until he screeched in agony. “Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.”
Life happens. Even in death. No use worrying about things that haven’t occurred yet.”
“Being too compassionate in a place like this is a mistake,” he warned. “Soft hearts don’t survive here.” “What kinds of hearts do?” He leaned down until their eyes were level. “Hearts with teeth.”
What makes you think he’d ever want to experience you that way again? the Shadow Voice hissed. You’re pathetic, undesirable. You’re creepy. He probably thought the way you acted last night was embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Embarrassing.
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“The Shadow Voice,” she gritted out, squeezing her hands into fists to resist the urge to plunge them back into her disheveled tresses. “It kept telling me I was embarrassing last night—when we, you know—and it wouldn’t stop. Over and over and over and over and over—” “Hey. Look at me.” She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed when she finally opened her eyes. “In. Out.” She did as he said. “Again.” In. Out. “One more time.” In. Out.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he vowed. “Next time your mind tries to convince you otherwise, remember this: there is nothing about you that I find undesirable. Okay?” She looked away. She never wanted to believe something more. You can’t, though, can you? The Shadow Voice laughed. They are just pretty words from a pretty face. You can believe me, though, little Necromancer. “Ophelia,” Blackwell called her back. “Every time your eyes glaze over like that… where do you go?”
she didn’t want to explain something so intimate to him, afraid it would make her break down.
She wondered what Cade held over the two men for them to be so loyal to him. Or maybe it was just that insipid sense of comradery assholes always seemed to have with other assholes that made them stick together. Regardless, she liked that they took the guesswork out of who she needed to avoid.
There was something about being in excruciating pain that had postponed her embarrassment. But now that her senses had returned, sharpened from the power of his magic, she couldn’t help but be mortified by everything he just witnessed. She had cried. Next time, just take the plummet into the ocean of lava, she chided herself. His expression turned frustrated. “If this voice is making you hurt yourself—” “I can fix myself without your help.” She huffed. “I was just under a lot of stress. It gets louder when I’m stressed.” “Ophelia.” His tone was firm now. “You don’t need to fix yourself.
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I will find a way to haunt you until every single one of your inner demons looks like me. You will never know a moment of peace again.”
“In all the darkness, in all the loneliness, you have been my one source of light,” he lamented as she began to come undone. “My soul will go to its grave with your name echoing in my mind.”
