Twisted Hate (Twisted, #3)

by Ana Huang

Jules was the most difficult woman I’d ever encountered. God help whichever poor bastard ended up falling for her.

I slipped into our banter with shocking ease, considering my day in the ER, but when I was around Jules, everything else ceased to exist. For better or for worse.

Of all my favorite sights in the world—the Washington Monument at sunrise, the autumnal blaze of leaves during a New England fall, the expanse of ocean and jungle laid out before me at the end of a long hike in Brazil—Jules wearing my shirt might just be my number one.

Before, Jules was beautiful in the way grass was green and oceans were deep. It was a fact of life, but not something that particularly touched me. Now, she was beautiful in a way that made me want to drown in her, to let her fill every inch of my soul until she fucking consumed me. It didn’t matter if it killed me, because in a world where I was surrounded by death, she was the only thing that made me feel alive.

Even with ashen skin and dark circles shadowing her eyes, she was the most beautiful, treacherous thing I’d ever seen.

I’d forgotten how much I loved that sound—the sound of her just existing, reminding me that no matter how fucked up the world got, there was at least one good thing in it.

He could be the King of fucking England, but he’ll never give you what I’m willing to give you.” The goosebumps multiplied. “What’s that?” “Everything.”

I would take a thousand fights with Jules over a thousand easy days with anyone else. Because I didn’t want easy. I wanted her.