Devious Lies (Cruel Crown, #1)

by Parker S. Huntington

On my ninth birthday, I’d learned that my dad loved me fiercely, storms were magic, and unique words were the prayers that fueled them.

All my life, I’d been accused of being too much. “Too out there.” “Too artsy.” “Too deranged.” “Too petty.” “Too lanky.” “Too independent.” “Too mouthy.” “Too much.” I took the insults and inhaled them as if they were compliments, swallowing each and every one with a cupidity that suggested they made me happy. And they did. I liked being too much because it meant I was never too little. I never held back. I never bit my tongue. I never pretended to be someone else. My critics were right. I was out there, artsy, deranged, petty, lanky, busty, independent, and mouthy. And for the most part, I liked myself.

“I do. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that we’re strangers. You never belonged with Reed, Little Tiger. He is domesticated. You are wild. To tame you would be a travesty. The sooner you get that, the sooner you can move on.”

“The existence of a word proves that someone in the history of humanity felt the same way I did and gave it a name. It means we’re not alone. If there’s a word for what we're feeling, we’re never alone.”

She believed in words, and magic, and storms. In fighting back, going down hard, never giving up. In blind loyalty, jumping first, dealing with consequences later. She was awful. She infuriated me. She drove me fucking crazy. And, I realized, I love her. “Ask me the question, Tiger.” Her eyes fluttered open, not staring at me but into me. “Is this just lust?” “It's everything.”