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He fucks with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting God.
I’m Pri-ya again. I always will be with this man.
“What do you eat?” I say carefully. “None of your fucking business,” he says gently. I nod. I can live with that.
“You’re Mac,” he says. “And I’m Jericho. And nothing else matters. Never will. You exist in a place that is beyond all rules for me. Do you understand that?” I do. Jericho Barrons just told me he loves me.
“We have to save the world,” I reminded. He reached for me. “The world can wait. I can’t.”
“You don’t trust anyone. Except yourself, and that’s not trust, that’s ego.” “Not ego. Awareness of my abilities. And the limitless nature of them.”
“I fight the battles.” “You are fighting this battle. We’re going after it together.” “Watching. Who’s driving this motorcycle and who’s in the bloody sidecar? I don’t ride in the sidecar. I wouldn’t even own a pussy bike with a sidecar.”
“You can’t protect me forever.” He gave me a look that said, Are you crazy? Of course I could.
Fate’s a fickle whore.
“I’m not vacillating. I’m … ah, fuck.” Barrons doesn’t lie to himself. He was vacillating and he knew it.
“I wanted to drag you between the shelves, fuck you senseless, and send you home.”
“You’re upsetting my entire existence.” “Fine, I’ll leave.” “Try and I’ll chain you up.”
Dance. Fuck. Feast.
I’d rather live a hard life of fact than a sweet life of lies.
“Everyone here is present because they are useful and important. Everyone should have a say.” Barrons cut her a hard look. “Some of us are more useful and important than others.”
What’s mine is mine.
“About fucking time you showed your face, old man.”
He was beautiful. He was horrifying.
And his face, oh, God, his face, I knew that face. I’d seen that face. Bending over me. Holding my head in his arms. Cradling me. While he moved inside me.
“Kids. Pain in the ass. Don’t know why I ever made them. Hell on relationships.”
I was awed by the dark majesty of him. I knew why War was as often revered as feared. I knew what it felt like to be cradled in those wings while he moved inside me.
quills, I felt his joy. The thought that she’d left him by choice had driven him mad. But she hadn’t. She’d been taken. He’d loved her for all time. Before she was made. After he’d believed she was gone. Sunshine to his ice. Frost to her fever. I wished them forever.
His dark gaze was ancient, inhuman, and uncharacteristically gentle.
I never get enough of him. Never will. He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always.
