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“Oh my god,” he whispers, shocked. “It’s Krypt, actually,” I give him my name and grab his hands, tying them behind his back. “And I’ll be your devil. Not your god.”
Because when I die, I want to leave this world with the feel of him all over me. In my mouth and on my tastebuds, over every inch of my skin, and in my goddamn soul. I want him to infect me before he snuffs me out forever, and if these are my final six minutes, I’m going to have him for every one of them.
His grin is shy but sinister. “I like it.” He leans in, lips brushing my jaw. “Might even say I’m fucking obsessed with it.”
