Born, Madly (Darkly, Madly, #2)

by Trisha Wolfe

We are perfection. And we are the fear that lurks beneath it. We feast on each other and exist only for the highs…and even now as I kneel before my dark goddess and pray for her mercy, I regret nothing.

Death at my lover’s hand. The ultimate reward and punishment for our perfection. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect ending.

And I am lured. Completely. She owns my entire being. Flesh and bone. My black soul belongs to her. With one look, she takes me down. If she demands I kneel right here, I’ll drop to my knees, offer penance for my sins as I plead for her to devour me.

London is the music awakening my soul. She’s the reason my heart beats. I’m alive for her—I’m free because of her, and now we’re unstoppable.

The danger lies in whether or not we’ll survive each other. The overbearing desire to consume and consume and consume until we’re sated…but we’ll never be sated. We’re an endless abyss, demanding replete gratification, our disease our enemy. We’re afflicted with an insatiable hunger. “My sick matches your sick,” I whisper to him.

“I’m in love with you, Grayson. I’m not incapable of love…I’ve just never been inspired before now. And I don’t want to be separated from you again.”

“You’re not giving her enough credit. She’s stronger than you think. Spread your legs.”

Not all demons are born to the dark. And not all angels seek the light.