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

by Wendy Heiss

After so long in her duty as a Reaper, Silene knew for certain that if love was all it took to save someone, they’d all be eternal.

“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.

“I wonder how long you have known that I watch you, too.”

“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.”

“Deny me, my ruination,” he called as she stepped into the boat over Lethe. “It makes begging all the more enjoyable.”

Come out of that damn home and glare at me, shout at me, come out and throw rocks at me, and tell me every single thing you hate about me, but just come out. Please. I can let you throw stuff at Tommy, too, if you’d like. PS: Your lilies are looking a little sad. Are their stems supposed to be bending like that?

“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,”

“You’re so beautiful, Silene. I wanted someone to think you’re mine. Anyone. Even if only briefly.”

“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?”

Let me be just a ghost only to haunt you for I can no longer love you.