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Perhaps she would always be destined for darkness no matter what she did or where she went.
“As it turns out, I don’t like being choked,” she muttered. Blackwell shrugged. “Not by metal collars at least.”
One thing about having a Ghost as a lover: changing positions was always smooth.
Because of my limited recollection, I barely know myself.”
Life is not measured in good or bad thoughts—it’s how you treat the world around you despite them.
“If there were ever a divine entity I’d worship,” he murmured, “it’d be you.” “My body, your altar,” she offered.
The only option she had left was to win the competition and ask for her debt to be forgiven. Which meant all of this was truly for naught. She and Genevieve would still lose Grimm Manor. They’d be exactly where they started—just with a little extra trauma.
“Devils are shameless gossips,” she muttered without acknowledging his statement. “Mortals are pitiful romantics,” he countered. “Falling in love no matter the cost.”
Her heart had finally grown teeth of its own, and it was ready to tear itself to shreds if the time came.
“I can’t fucking stand the thought of him—of anyone—pleasuring you except me. I’d rather cease to exist than know you’ve looked at anyone else the way you look at me when I’m touching you.”
I know I should have enough self-control to just stay the fuck away, but you are the only thing that’s ever made me feel even a semblance of hope in this eternity of Hell. The dream I’ve been looking for—the one to wake me up. The thought of wasting another second when I will lose you forever in only three days has ruined me. You are the closest thing I will ever get to experiencing heaven, and I’m not ready to let it go.”
“In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust,” he vowed to her.
“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.”
“Salemaestrus Erasmus Blackwell, I am hereby sentencing you to my newest creation—Phantasma. A place of nightmares that you will rule with no memory of the traitorous little bastard you’ve become to me—and maybe you’ll eventually learn how to deserve your title of Prince of the Devils. You will belong to Phantasma and myself evermore—unless you find the heart and a key to set you free,” the King invoked. “And if I do set myself free?” Salem wondered. “You will receive a fair reward. What’s your price?” The King smiled. “I want every single soul who knows my True Name to forget it,” Salem
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“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much. You saved me. So many times, in so many ways, and it barely took you a week to change me so intrinsically. I may never be rid of my inner demons, but for this single sliver of time, whenever we were together, you made them quiet. I was able to hear myself for once. And I want you to know that I will gladly take on whatever this place is going to curse me with knowing you will finally get out of the Hell you’ve been trapped in for so long.”
“Ophelia I… I am so fucking in love with you. I think I fell in love with you when you asked me how you could help me that first time we met. Prince of the Devils, and you wanted to save me. Maybe, somehow, I knew then that you could be the one to set me free. And I meant what I said that night, that you should hope we never met again, and I fucking hate that this is what it’s coming down to. But… every single second I’ve spent with you has reminded me what it’s like to be alive. And I would trade every other soul in the world if it meant I would get to keep you forever.”
