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He stole my breath, my life, my damn existence. And now, I’ll steal his. My name is Teal Van Doren, and I’m a thief.
“Sure,” I say instead. There’s something else I’ve learnt about human interactions: if you agree with them, they drop it, which means less headaches and more peace of mind.
He’s so daft, my brother, and I have no words to describe how much I appreciate him for it. I wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t have him. When the darkness swallows me and I have nowhere to go, he’s there, telling me without words that we have each other. We always have, since our whore mother’s womb. We had each other even when that same whore wanted to make us like her.
I stole his will, his future, and soon enough, his life will follow. I have a secret, I’m a thief. Ronan Astor is my next target. As well as my future husband.
“I think you missed the memo about makeup. It’s supposed to make you prettier, not uglier.”
Mon amour.
Marriage of convenience is first on the list of mandatory shit to do. I’ll do it one day, as expected of me. Only that day isn’t today, or even fifteen years from now. That’s why my little toy will play her part and say no during tonight’s dinner.
The start of a war. Wars are Death’s playground. It’s where he harvests souls and leaves the remaining ones desolate.
It’s a special type, the kind you not only want to stare at but also want to trap somewhere so you’re the only one who sees it. It’s kind of sick, but it fits her.
Ron Astor the Second is ready to rip someone in half, and not just anyone. Her.
The moment she gasps, I crush my lips to hers. She tastes like…madness, the type you can never get away from or with. It’s the type that gets under your skin, and soon enough, you don’t know whether you’re losing your sanity or your life.
She stirred up my ugly side, and now she has to become its target. I, Ronan Astor, the most attentive lover you could ever find, want to break someone — but not just anyone. Her.
They say you should find what you love and keep it close. The same can be said about what you hate.
I grab her by her nape and she stills, her breath hitching. Fuck me, just one touch and she’s already this responsive.
“You’re wet and soaked and ready for some fucking.” “Stop saying things like that,” I murmur. “Like what?” He teases my entrance through the cloth and I arch my back. “Like how hard I’m going to fuck you until everyone hears you beg for more? How loud I’m going to make you scream as you come?”
“You know, it should stop me. It did in the past. I don’t make girls sore — I make fucking love to them, but not with you, belle. I want to fuck you like a dirty little whore.”
“You taste like fucking sin.” He breathes against me. “But do you know what will taste better?” I shake my head, barely able to focus. “My cum down your throat.”
He’s ruining me, corrupting me, and I’m enjoying every second of it.
She’s a socially awkward bean with a twist. Most socially awkward people don’t want to be in that category, whereas Teal likes it — if anything, she might even take pride in it.
He’s the disaster you never see coming. He’s a monster hidden under the popularity and the picturesque smile and family.
Because the truth is, he’s not normal, and neither am I. And maybe, just maybe, that’s completely fine.
“And I want every last bit of your craziness.”
“You don’t get to come yet.” He bites the lobe of my ear and I shriek. “You get to feel this, feel us, so the next time you say I’m not your type, you’ll think about this exact fucking moment of me owning every inch of you.”
“Mine. Only fucking mine,” he growls before he claims my lips in an animalistic kiss.
Like a good creep, I spend most of the night watching her sleeping face. Ron Astor the Second wouldn’t have let me sleep anyway. The fucker is more than awake, as if he’s high on Viagra.
mon fréro
