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“Hello?” Tension leaves my lips in a short breath. The voice is like cashmere and chocolate. Like a gentle kiss on the cheek, a warm bath on an icy night. “Hello? Are you okay?” It’s a ray of sunshine through an open window, a cool breeze on a hot day. I want to die to its soundtrack. I want to hear it again. I scan the horizon for its source, and when I find it, my vision jolts. Under the next streetlamp stands a girl. No—an angel. Not one of those biblically accurate ones they’d draw on the whiteboard to scare the shit out of us in Sunday school, but one from the movies. The human-shaped,
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I’m as unlovable as I am untouchable. So why the fuck is she now touching me?
Her gaze fixes on my stomach, wide-eyed and disbelieving. “Is that blood?” “No, it’s ketchup,” I grit. “It looks painful.” “No shit.”
Im cracking up already
If I had even a fraction of my usual strength, I’d snap her fucking wrists, every finger and knuckle too.
Huh...
“You realize I’m going to die, right?” She tuts. “Well, you will with that attitude.”
“You’re going to be fine, we just need to get you to the hospital.” “Yeah. A couple of stitches and a lollipop, and I’ll be right as rain.” “That’s the spirit.”
She adjusts her own earbud. “It’s ‘Dancing Queen,’ by ABBA,” she says proudly, as if she wrote the fucking song herself. “Get it out,” I grunt. “No, it’ll make you feel better.”
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Guess death softens your insides, and liquid shit is coming out of my mouth too. Her wings flutter beneath the light as she cocks her head and flashes me a broad smile. It’s like looking at the fucking sun. A bitter amusement filters through me. “You hear that all the time.” “Yes, but tell me again.”
YESSSSSSSS
“How’d you get those wings?” “Eh, I just bought them off Amazon,” she chirps, eyes holding a sparkle.
Stop haahaa she actually has wings hahahaha
She’s heaven-sent, I’m hell-bound, and here we are, crossing paths in the middle.
She breathes out on a shaky whisper, “You’re actually going to die, aren’t you?” “I will with that attitude.”
Thijs is so goodddd
But for once in my goddamn life, I don’t want to know. The moment’s too perfect, she’s too perfect. I ruin everything I fucking touch, and I don’t want to ruin her.
“Wait,” she yells, over the whir of the blades. “I didn’t get your name!” For the first time since Mama died, all three syllables bubble up my throat. “Gabriel.” She shields her eyes with her hands and smiles. “Gabriel, like the angel?” I laugh. She laughs. “I’m Wren.” Wren.
Denis drags me backward, and that familiar piano run bursts into my ear again. This time, at max volume.
Wren. Her name carves into my heart and etches into my skin. I hope the Devil allows keepsakes in hell, because fuck, I’m taking it with me.
Boyyyy oh boyy
The courting was a whirlwind so strong and intense that I didn’t see her for three whole months. Only when she breezed into The Rusty Anchor, a handsome Visconti in her shadow, did I get the full story.
What?
I
Rafe looks over my shoulder and cocks a brow. “Who, Gabe?” Gabe.
Because I didn’t know there was another Visconti brother. But I do know that man.
When I reach the far side of the dance floor, I spin back around on my heel. I catch his eye just as the strobe light hits him and stick out my tongue again. I’m tempted to stick my middle finger up too, but that’d be rude. And Wren Harlow is never rude.
Well, would you look at that. The bastard’s on a roll. He’s right again,
I’m not surprised she snitched—she looks like the snitching type—I’m just surprised it’s taken her so long.
My sister-in-law is a psychopath. She’ll smile and swear she didn’t key your car, or serve you a coffee and not even flinch as she watches you drink her spit. She’s a flawless liar.
“It’ll hurt them more, and you won’t break a nail.” “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“And if all else fails, you kick them in the balls.” Instinctively, I look down at his crotch. Though, I realize my error in less than a heartbeat and quickly glance away, sensing Gabriel stiffen. “Not my balls,” he warns.
“You promise?” I blurt out, growing weak. “You really promise you won’t hurt me? Because I swear if you do, I’ll never talk to you again.” A dry amusement sweeps over his gaze. “You trying to convince me or deter me?”
“Ah, it’s the lovely Wren.” Rafe’s warm voice rises toward me. He retreats to the bottom step and stands aside. “After you. It’s bad luck to cross on the stairs.”
And
The floorboards groan under leather loafers as he approaches the bar. He palms it and pins me with an even stare. “Stay away from my brother.”
Irritation fissures through me at the sight of Rafe’s yacht. It’s as flashy and as obnoxious as he is,
I know how her hand feels. I know the exact number of seconds it takes for her heat to bleed through my shirt and warm my skin. I could pick out her fingerprint on its texture alone because it’s etched onto my bicep, the hollows of my cheeks, the scar on my face.
She’s so quick to invade my space, I don’t expect it. There’s no time to sidestep or bark at her either, so I just stand there, frozen, as she closes her eyes and places her hand on my chest.
“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.” My shoulders snap into a tight line, and I run my tongue over my teeth, still tasting her.
But fuck, I was born bad, but I was born a nosy bastard too. I turn my head. “Who were you just texting?”
I was right: something bad is about to happen. Just not to me.
“Cancel it.” They drag up my spine like a match, threatening to reignite everything the light just extinguished. “And if I don’t?” I croak. His pause is dense. “Then I guess I’ll see you there.”
Gabriel Visconti has just poisoned a man for me. Me.
