How to Break an Undead Heart (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy, #3)

by Hailey Edwards

Truthfully? I may have been jonesing for punishment then, but it’s not like I go around rubbing my hands with glee when I imagine all the pain I’ll be in during or after sparring with her. And fine, yes, so I have a backlog of pent-up rage searching for a target. I could admit that much. There was something cathartic about striking another person as hard as you could when you knew they would deflect the blows to minimize the damage. Life had been using me as a punching bag for so long, it felt good hitting back.

“How about this? I’m better with books than people. Books I understand. People…”

Yeah.. This is me

“I understand.” He swung his head toward me, his eyes searching mine. “You need to feel like your actions don’t set a domino effect into motion with everyone around you.” “Yes,” I breathed. “That’s exactly it.” “Amelie was wrong to blame you for what she did to herself.” He pulled the plug in the sink. “There’s nothing wrong with having friends who love you enough to drop everything and come when you call. The problem is those friends blaming you when the things they drop shatter.” The swirl of gurgling water held his attention. “Our actions have consequences, Grier. We are all responsible for what we do—or don’t do—and that’s it.”

Gazing into his office was like staring into a mirror. On the back wall, hung above his desk, was an oil painting. The woman wore my face, but she wore it better than me. Happiness shined through her eyes, and a mischievous quirk lifted one corner of her mouth. She looked like she had a good secret and was seconds from sharing it if only you would lean close enough to hear.

“Linus,” I murmured, giving my eyes permission to close. “What are you?” All the blood had rushed to my head, drumming in my ears. That’s the only reason why I thought he replied yours.

“Real is an abstract concept. Are we ever ourselves, our whole selves, except when we’re alone?”

From a distance, he was heartbreakingly beautiful, his features hewn from granite, his skin kissed by the sun. But upon closer inspection, he was too gaunt, with scars crosshatching his forearms, and his eyes, a rich aquamarine, held an edge of sorrow that was as likely to slit his throat as yours.

first description of Midas

Maybe that apparent ease was what made their unions burn so bright from the outside looking in. Maybe that kind of love wasn’t simple. Maybe it was a goal you strove toward every single day for the rest of your lives. A peak you never reached, but that was okay as long as you kept climbing.

“How are you feeling?” “Like my heart has forgotten its rhythm.”

The people I’ve trusted most of my life have betrayed me. How can he possibly do any worse?”