Fangs for Nothing (The Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven 1)

by Steffanie Holmes

It’s the kind of kiss that Taylor Swift would write a hit song about.

If Dracula visited Black Crag, the infamous vampire would step back in disgust and tell the owner: Cool it with the gargoyles, dude. No one’s that goth.

But when the night is filled with monsters, you need the worst monster of all on your side.

Perfectionism can be a way for people to avoid finishing things or, in your case, displaying them.”

“Bloodsucker or no, that man should be cleaning out your cobwebs with his womb broom.”

“I did not run from our kiss because I don’t want you, Winnie. I ran because you’re everything I’ve dreamed of.”

I suppose when you find out that your employer is a vampire, you should make like an angry goose and get the flock out of town.

“Our love came unannounced in the night, knocking down walls and lighting candles in the gloom,”

and Danny hurt me, and now they’re both dead. I can’t help but think that I’m at the centre of this and …” “… and I am your monster.”

“I know it’s hard for you to let me see your weakness,” he murmurs. “You have always had to be so strong. You’re the one who cleans up everyone’s mess, so you never get to be a mess yourself. Well, I want to love you whether you are a quiet day or a raging hurricane. I want you to fall apart for me so I can love every piece of you. Give me your wounds, Winnie, and I will bleed for you.”

To know love and to lose it is a fate worse than death,

it remind you to never be too stubborn or too afraid to love. Things that break can be repaired, and become all the more beautiful for the cracks. Eternity is a long time for regrets.”

I can’t find words for this sensation in my chest – a blooming, as if the butterflies inside me were never butterflies at all. All this time, they’ve been caterpillars making their first shambling journeys, spinning their cocoons from the shards of my old, discarded life.

Avoiding pain is a kind of hurt you inflict on yourself.