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She almost felt sorry for him, until he looked up at her and winked slowly, with vanity. “Every good love story starts with a bullet to the heart.”
She was, simply put, a tempest in a bottle, tiny and simmering and ready to obliterate.
“One gets a taste for blood when you have to lick your own wounds, you see.”
Slay, Queen!
“Hello, criminal,” he said, stepping behind her. “Teach me, saint,” she replied.
“And don’t die,” Jin joked. “That’s the one thing I haven’t mastered,” Matteo said with a dramatic sigh.
“My tongue is quite capable, darling,” Matteo assured her. Something prickled in Arthie’s chest. “And I’m more than happy to demonstrate.”
And then, with a sweet little sound, she rose up and kissed him. Softly, gently. Driving him mad. He pulled away with a tsk, his voice a low scrape of want. “Let me show you how it’s done, love.”
She had brought death to his doorstep, and he was looking up at her as if she’d saved him. His eyes were full of love, and Arthie, after all she had done, loathed herself a little more because of it. “Do not mourn. I lived an eternity and more on this earth.”
Screaming, crying, throwing up.
“Family isn’t who we live with but those we would die for.”
