Echoes (Dance With My Demons, #2)

by Steph Macca

What an unhinged good fucking reader you are. I knew you'd be gagging for the monsters under the bed… Begging them to drag you down to hell and rearrange your insides. Welcome home.

I can't help but wonder what my viewers think of me too. I feel like a circus animal, chained and put out for show. Come one, come all. Hear the echoes of my hauntings.

Time stands frozen, the clock on the wall broken. But even the clock is still right twice a day.

You have five more minutes before I leave this room and gut everyone who crosses my path."

"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."

"Love and forgiveness are two separate things."

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

I'm alone again, just like always. I should be used to it. That was my entire life, my sole purpose. But now… Now, it feels like a fate worse than death.

Knowledge is power, and I've given him that. It's up to him to respond to the situation accordingly.

I don't know what their deal is, but I couldn't give a shit. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

"Look at me,"

No one has ever told me before in my life that I'm beautiful.

She's a fucking powerhouse, bringing even the most broken, lost souls to salvation.

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

Goals

"Oh, God." "Not God," he laughs. "The Devil."

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

"Don't play with fire," he warns, and I know it's aimed at me. "But the pain feels so good," I taunt back.

Sleep was always my comfort, because when you are away from your thoughts, life seems easier.

You can't fight death. It's inevitable.

I can't help but smile at him. Perhaps I'm insane after all. Normal people get confessions of love. I get confessions of murder.

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

The sight of her covered in our mixed blood awakens something in me, an animalistic throaty growl ripping loudly from me as I thrust into her hard, falling over the edge as I spill inside her.

"Let me go there right now and rip open his carotid artery." "Avery's in session with him," I point out. Grey snorts. "I'll fuck her in his blood. That doesn't worry me."

At least Grey and Theo see me for who I am. And I guess in a weird turn of events, so does Damon.

"You might think I'm the villain, Avery. And you'd be correct. But that's because we're made to be. There's nothing wrong with that."

He's dangerous, unpredictable. But guess what? So the fuck am I. I'm worse, actually.

Some might say I'm a masochist. And I guess they would be correct.

People glance back at us, me flanked by Theo on one side and Grey on the other—disbelief, confusion and fucking dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

Now, I want you to explode on your other boyfriend's cock while looking at me."

from what I could hear through the wall, he's still a possessive shit." "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."

We all have problems—take a spoonful of cement and harden the fuck up.

Facts

"You must be as fucked up as I am." "Worse," I reply with a smirk. "I'm so much worse, baby."

I love causing chaos.

Me

"Stay out of trouble," I laugh, giving him a quick kiss goodbye and a smile of appreciation. "Never," he whispers, eyes flashing wildly.

"I borrowed a staff card and got the access code." "Borrowed?" "Bribed." "Try again, Theo." He laughs. "Threatened." "There we go."

Damon makes a sound of disgust. "Could you not discuss your sex life while I am eating my pancakes?" My eyes fall to his plate in amusement. "I expected more from you, Damon. Something more savory or spicy—like eggs benedict or the souls of your enemies. Pancakes, really?" "What the fuck is wrong with pancakes?" he snaps. "Nothing," I mutter, shaking my head. "Nothing at all."

"I'd fuck his eye socket, but my cock is only for you,"

Avery's cheeks are flushed with confusion—horrified at seeing the real monster I am, while conflicted by my words of love. And I mean every single one of them.

No one is going to take that away from me. I'll kill every last person until we're the last two left. And then we'll burn the world down together.

I raise an eyebrow. "Aren't you meant to be in a session?" "Aren't you?" he shoots back.