Echoes (Dance With My Demons, #2)

by Steph Macca

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."

"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'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."

I've had anger issues all my life. But rightfully so because people are fucking cunts. I have no patience for any of them. I don't have time to give pity, hold hands while someone cries about life. We all have problems—take a spoonful of cement and harden the fuck up.