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He’s here again. Staring at me. Always staring. Watching, considering… waiting. For what I don’t know. He never says a word. Not one.
Damaged souls have their own beauty. A dark, terrifying beauty.
I’ve tried to be a good girl my whole life. Just like Ma wanted me to. But now, now I’m ready to do bad. Ready to say fuck this world and everyone in it, consequences be damned.
My dark prince. The reaper. The man who spilled blood for me without pause. For that reason alone he’ll always be on a pedestal that no other can reach. He’ll always be the memory I revisit in my darkest of times.
This is pure physics. He’s the lightning, and I am simply a conductor. We were always bound to converge.
It’s the lie we all want to believe. That it will be okay. The problem is that it never really is.
He’s polluted my mind so that I can only ever think of him. Only ever want him.
My breath is hot against his ear, murmuring his name. Any shame or confusion has dissipated into a haze of manic craving. I will never understand what it is about this quiet, enigmatic man that renders me completely senseless.
All I have to do is enter his orbit, and I’m a slave to his power. I suspect that’s why he’s always avoiding me. He doesn’t want to give in to the same force.
“He’s having a wank right there in the bloody pit,” Ronan shouts. “He was looking at her…” His words are coming out broken and in between bursts of harsh breaths. “My woman,” he says. “He tried to touch her… and…” “Alright, caveman,” Lachlan says. “We get it, she’s yours. Now fuck off out of here. I’ll sort out the lad.”
“What about Daisy?” I ask him. “I think it suits her.” He watches the dog for a few moments and then shrugs. “That sounds… grand.”
:’)
He’s my anchor in the stormy sea. The one that keeps me from being pulled away into the chaos. But Ronan needs an anchor too.
The fire that forged him was monstrous and cruel, but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
