Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

It shouldn’t hurt. But it did. I always liked her. I always looked for her.

“I think that’s why I’ve always liked this time of day best. People hide in the dark. They quench their thirsts in the dark. They build their secrets in the dark. We’re more ourselves here than anywhere else. I get to be me”—he swallowed, staring at me—“when nightfall is coming.”

“But you’re going to be fucking mine someday,” he growled. “Come hell or high water, Emory Scott. You’re my woman, and you’re going to come home to me every day and sit at my table and warm my fucking bed.” He kissed me. “And you’re going to give me a Will Grayson IV. Mark my words.”

I’d loved Emory since the moment I laid eyes on her when I was fourteen.

That was my girl, scarred, tattered soul, and all. She was beautiful.

“The role of the villain is only determined by who’s telling the story.”

“Will you marry me?” I asked, breathing hard and my heart hammering. Slowly, I climbed to my feet and turned to face him, seeing him stopped. He stood there, frozen, not turning around, but that was okay. I wasn’t sure I could do this if he looked at me. God, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow. “I love you,” I said, and I could see people filming us with their phones out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care. “I’m wild crazy for you, and I’m sure I’ll kill you at some point, but . . . God, I love you so much, and I want you to marry me.” More tears streamed down my face as I choked out the words. “Marry me, Will Grayson.” I rushed up and hugged his back, wrapping my arms around him. “Can you marry me? Can I marry you?”

“I loved you last night,” I told him. “And I loved you this morning. I’ll still be here. I’ll still be me tomorrow and every day after.”

Erika Fane intimidated me, even in high school, and she had been two years behind me.