Where the Light No Longer Follows (Blue Fairytales, #3)

by Wendy Heiss

“What can I say? I like sad, pretty girls who look at me like they wish nothing more but to bury my existence six feet under.”

Gabriel wondered—he wondered if she’d always sensed him, if she knew he’d always been watching her for years, for hundreds of them.

Gabriel had not once kneeled before anything or anyone, king nor queen, God or Goddess, but for whatever he’d done to deserve her hate, he wanted to kneel before her and beg.

“There hasn’t been a moment ever since the first time I found you that I’ve looked away.”

“Anything, you could make anything out of nothing. You gave more life to things than I ever could. Simply by touching them. You were magnificent. The rarest thing I’d laid my eyes upon,”

“Beg,” she said, spinning to him. “Get on your knees and beg for it. Maybe I will consider it.”

“Have my heart. Wounded, sick, or scarred. In your hands not stolen or gifted but surrendered. Became a half when it met yours, so in the eyes of Gods let it become whole again,”

“My taunting eidolon, my lovely apparition, my beautiful phantom,” he murmured as a tear fell against the glass frame. “How many more nights must I mourn you?”