Ravage (Dance With My Demons, #3)

by Steph Macca

There comes a point where we adapt. You become so used to the trauma and pain that it's all you know. When it disappears, you don't know how to cope without it. Your body stays in that survival mode, constantly on edge until you start to go insane.

We're not the product of our upbringings, not defined by what the court system or society think about us or our past actions. We deserve to be happy too.

"Love is pain," I tell her, pressing my hand against her waist to steady her. "The sooner you keep still, the sooner it will be over." Her body stills and I quickly resume before she starts moving like a drunk octopus again. Grey pats her knee in a soothing gesture, watching the needle closely. "You're doing well. Hang in there," he says encouragingly.

"Taste our girl," he says, throat bobbing as he grabs my jaw. Resisting the urge to laugh out loud, I open my mouth just as Grey spits into it. Avery lets out a startled, throaty whimper at the scene, and I turn my head to face her.

"Maintenant tu es à moi aussi," he whispers, placing kisses over my neck and jawline. I don't know what the words mean, but I do know one thing. Now that I have him, I'm not letting him go.

Touch her and I'll make your nightmares seem like a happy place. I'll burn everything and everyone without blinking. They will beg for death because it will be the easy way out.