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“It is only in love and murder that we still remain sincere.” —Friedrich Dürrenmatt
Even if this doesn’t last, for as long as I live, there will be a piece of Abel Frazier buried deep within my soul.
But hopes aren’t wishes to be granted, and even if they were, no one is around to hear mine.
But there's something about her big, brass balls that make me want to own a pair of my own. If lady balls were contagious—Avalon is the one that gave them to me.
Some demons wear pleasant faces, Abel. Those are the ones you have to be most careful around.
“I’m no Cinderella, Abel,” she says. “But if this were a fairytale, you would be a beast … not a prince.”
"Because when I fuck you, Riot Girl," he says, sending chills skating down my spine, "there won't be anything quick about it. It's going to be long and hard and so fucking dirty, you'll be wondering why you thought resisting was ever an option."
All I can do is stand over by the bar watching her, staring at her like exactly what I am—a predator. I want to eat her up, consume her, and inhale her into my soul until there's no part of her I don't possess.
“Now open those pretty lips of yours, and I’ll show you how you kiss a man, Riot Girl. I’ll show you how to kiss me.”
I'll own her, but in return … she can have me. What's left of my wicked, dark heathen soul is hers and all she has to do is be mine.
Rylie Moore is no longer her own woman. She's Sick Boy property. She's Abel Frazier Property.
"You're dangerous like a fucking poison, Riot Girl." I blink. "You slip into my veins and you drive me crazy from the inside out. I can't get you out of my head. You're in my fucking dreams and I want more."
"I want you in my bed, Riot Girl. Every fucking day. I want to wake up to you and touch you and I want to carve my fucking name into your soul. I want to be the man you turn to for help." My breath escapes me in a rush at that proclamation. "Now, please … tell me who I have to kill to get you to come back to me."
They're beautiful, those demons of hers, and I don't want to save her from them. I want to show her how to harness them. To use them. To relish in their darkness because it's only in the dark that we truly understand ourselves.
She said she doesn't want to fix me because I'm not broken. A sweet sentiment, but wrong. I'm so far beyond broken; I'm ruined. Soiled. Tainted. But that doesn't mean I'm not selfish enough to want to keep her anyway.
Still, there's one thing I can't deny. One thing I need to tell her. I close my eyes and drag her against me, hugging her to my chest even as she stiffens. "I love you."
Three simple words, yet they mean the world. I've never said them in this capacity. I've loved my mother. I've loved my brothers, and yes, I love Avalon. But I love no one the way I love Rylie. It's new. It's different. It's … terrifying.
"When shit hits the fan, you can stress out. For tonight, just ... drink and dance and get dicked." There it is. Avalon Manning's wise words of wisdom. Get Dicked.
