Exile (Dance with my Demons #4)

by Steph Macca

We could have played rock paper scissors to decide who gets to marry her, even if I'd be awfully tempted to chop off their hands to win by default.

Ambidextrous overachiever of vengeance.

always thought the ultimate gift would be my father's death, but I was wrong." "Maybe that can be your Christmas present," she murmurs. "A little murder goes well with mistletoe."

surprise is a gift, Grey. Like a box of chocolates. Not a whole ass damn marriage."

And she has my little black bleeding heart in

I remind myself that this is our therapy and that I'm doing this because it's romantic. Sure, it's probably not as romantic as severed fingers in flowers or homemade shivs, but at least I'm being original and not stealing their ideas.

Fuck. I'm a matchmaker. A fucked-up version of Cupid if he had three psychos as weapons instead of arrows.