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Power and control were addictive. And I didn’t want to like it, because it made me sick. It made me Damon.
“No matter how you cover yourself, it’s never enough. You’re beautiful.”
“How much can I spend?” she asked. “I’ll call you when the text alerts start scaring me.”
correct answer
What had Damon told me, time and again? It’s always best to say as little as possible. The more of a mystery you are, the less leverage they have.
“You make me feel driven. You make me hungry and on fire and wanting to slow down time instead of wanting to rush through it. It’s you I look for when I walk in the doors in the morning. Not her. You.”
“I love you guys,” Michael said, “but are you fucking dense? You’re my friends. She is everything. Maybe someday you’ll know what the fuck I’m talking about.”
“Well, good. Happy to hear it, because I’m the only man whose attention you should be trying to get, and baby, you got it years ago while wearing another man’s clothes.” He kissed my temple, his hot breath sending chills down my spine. “So, you can imagine how fucking beautiful you are to me right now wearing mine.”
“I like you, little one.” I smiled, hating that stupid nickname as much as when he called me “kid.” “I like you, too.” I love you.
“Damon eats pain,” I told her. “He will find some way to take it and twist it and fit it down his throat, so he can swallow it. He’s made of it. You all can endure it until you overcome it, but Damon . . . he wants to be in hell.” It’s where he shines.
“And don’t forget your masks.” “Why?” Will shot out. “Because it’s Devil’s Night.”
