Echoes (Dance With My Demons, #2)

by Steph Macca

I feel like a circus animal, chained and put out for show. Come one, come all. Hear the echoes of my hauntings.

they must think I'm insane. I guess I am. But the truth is I'm haunted by misery.

"I'm serious, Deadman. Five minutes and I'm out of here. I don't care. I'll paint the hallways red and string Christmas lights up made of intestines."

Oh, please try me. Please, please… push me over the edge. I'm begging you.

Out of sight, out of mind they say. But that's just bullshit. Now that I know she's in the same building as me again, the tether between us pulls. And I'm going to take that tether and wrap it around her soft body—whether that's to fuck her or kill her, I don't know yet.

She tastes like Heaven. My fallen angel.

"I could die right now," I growl, looking into her gray orbs. "It would be the best death. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else except in you."

If anyone lays a single finger on her, bruising her perfect skin, I'll soak them in gasoline and make a bonfire.

"You're not going to avoid me any longer, Avery. I don't care the reason why. Whatever it is, I promise that I'm the bigger threat."

I'm fucking possessive. I'm dangerous. I'll fucking kill for what's mine. And that extends to her.

And that extends to Cirque des Morts. My Circus of the Dead. That's what we are here—dead. Dead to society, dead inside. And sometimes, like Hallman, actually dead. I'm their fucking leader. And the best thing about us? You can't fight death. It's inevitable.

"When I find out who framed you, I'll make their nightmares seem like a happy place. I promise you that, Avery."

"Who do you think killed Hallman, little killer? He didn't take his own life. No—I ended it. I ended that sad, pathetic excuse of a man because he touched you. He tried to hurt what's mine."

"You killed Sam?" Grey smiles, unfazed. "Of course I did. Now do you understand? We didn't frame you. I killed for you.

The only one I'd kill for." "You'd kill for Damon," I point out confidently. He nods. "Yes, but that's because of the bigger picture. I'd kill just to make you smile."

Perhaps I'm insane after all. Normal people get confessions of love. I get confessions of murder.

As he grabs my hand firmly, I get ready for him to break our connection, but surprisingly, he lifts our hands higher, placing my palm over his beating heart. "This cold, black thing beats for you, Avery."

"I might have a hold on you, Grey. But I promise that you have a hold on me too."

"You're fucking mine, Avery," he growls into my mouth. "This lifetime and the next one too."

"This is what you do to me," I breathe out, growling as her finger presses into my flesh harder. "You tear me apart from the inside out in the best fucking ways possible. You make me kill for you, you make me want to die for you. I'll burn this whole place down to ashes and paint you with them like the muse you are."

"When you go to heaven one day, I'll drag you back down to hell to join me. Because I'm never leaving you, Avery."

"You're possessive too," I shoot back. "Leaving fingers on my bed." He shrugs. "I gave you a flower. Girls like that shit." "Oh, that's the part you are focusing on," I scold playfully. "Here's the finger of your enemy… it's in a rose though." "I'm nothing if not unique," he smiles.

If souls exist, Avery, I don't have one."

"You're the exception, Avery. If I feel anything, it's because you put it there."

"We're bonded by this blood. Together, the King and Queen of the Unhinged."