Hooked (Never After, #1)

by Emily McIntire

Fatal enough to ensure his death but slow enough where I get to enjoy watching every last second of his miserable life drain away, taking his pathetic soul along with it.

Just long enough for him to stare into my eyes and know that I’m the monster he helped create. The living incarnation of his sins coming back to sow justice.

How does it feel? There’s no quickening of my heart. No fire surging through my veins. No power leaching from my bones.

Now I’m one step closer to the one responsible for everything. And this time, he won’t be able to fly away.

Even if I wanted to, there is no cutting the cord. His power and influence reach every corner of the universe, and there isn’t anything or anyone that escapes his control. Or if there is, I’ve never met them.

Roofus—known to the world as Ru—is the only person in my life worthy of my trust. He saved me from hell, and I’ll never be able to repay that debt.

All this is mine anyway; he just doesn’t like to say it out loud.

Sometimes I truly believe Ru thinks he’s untouchable. It makes him sloppy. Makes him trust too easily.

I guess when you’ve experienced the things I have, you learn quickly that immortality is only granted through people’s memories.

If you want to ensure someone’s loyalty, you have to make sure they understand why you deserve it.

And I’ve made sure that people understand the end of a blade hurts worse when the person wielding it enjoys causing pain.

How fortuitous that the man I long to kill is serving himself to me on a silver platter.

“Make sure Peter knows I’m so looking forward to meeting him face-to-face.”

Still, I’ve never begrudged the offspring for the sins of their father. We’re all by-products of evil, some of us born into it and others created from circumstance.

then sending her back with a new master controlling her leash—a beautiful harmony as I conduct the symphony of Peter’s destruction.

His little shadow. Fitting nickname, I think. After all, one can’t leave their shadow behind without missing it in the end.

my eyes stay locked on the cameras, imagining the day when I’ll have Wendy in her place. And I’ll make her choke on something truly filthy.

I have no interest in owning something damaged, even temporarily. And until I decide otherwise, Wendy Michaels is mine.

Our mother died when Jon was barely one, a fatal car accident from a drunk driver.

he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t argue. Presumably because even he can feel the power radiating from the man standing at his side.

It should put me on guard, but instead, excitement floods my insides.

And that night, when I go to bed, I dream of cerulean blue. James.

The Lost Boys, as the newspapers have affectionately labeled us, run wild and free.

It’s one of the reasons I find it so lovely to have Peter Michaels and his daughter showing up in the belly of the beast. He’s a powerful man. But here, his name is useless, his money nothing more than dyed paper. People in this city answer to me

Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound causes my insides to shrivel, memories surging forward, reminding me of all the times I had no power. Of all the times I was forced in positions where pride and respect didn’t exist. All the nights I lay in bed as an eleven-year-old boy, fresh from England and grieving the death of my family, wondering why on earth God made me survive. What had I ever done that was so wrong?

There’s something strangely gratifying about becoming someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. A type of thrill that can’t be replicated. One that courses through your insides and makes you feel untouchable. Infallible. Like a god

I pull up a photo of Peter Michaels and his family, desire cramping my stomach when I zone in on Wendy’s face, imagining what it will feel like to have her underneath me. To have her submitting to me fully before I break her and send her back to a fatherless home.

Wendy Michaels is a delicious treat, and I can’t wait to enjoy every bite.

Over the years, he’s slowly slipped further and further away, and now I don’t know how to reach him. I’m not sure how to convince him that we need attention too.

Once upon a time, I thought my father hung the moon. I followed him everywhere and did everything with him. So much so, he dubbed me his “little shadow.” But as I grew older, things changed.

“Thank you, by the way, for putting Jon in homeschool.” “Yeah, about that, I’ve changed my mind. There’s a great boarding school outside Bloomsburg I’m sending him to.”

Maybe people never change, and it’s only our perceptions that alter the view.

Some men are born into this world with purpose; other men are mutilated into it.

To be the bright accent on my arm while I show her off to the world, watch the look on her father’s face as she brings me home for dinner.

Having the urge is one thing; losing yourself to temptation is quite another.

Straight on ’til morning.

It’s the first piece of advice he gave me and one that’s stuck ever since.

The biggest monster of them all is one who sits at the same table for dinner.

He points to the clock tower that sits in the middle of the town square, the moon and stars shimmering in the background. “Straight on ’til morning.”

“That means you don’t quit until you get what you want. Even if it takes all damn night. Understand?”

She zoned in on him the first moment we walked in the bar,

I should be wary at how quickly he spins me off-balance until I become so wrapped in his presence I can barely breathe.

The hint of danger stretches out like tentacles and suctions to my skin like a dark caress. It’s exciting

Nerves erupt in my stomach, and as much as I try to ignore it, I like the way it feels to be the one who’s getting his attention. Like I’m special.

She’s probably right and I’m just a passing thrill. Something unattainable that he’s eager to catch,

considering he’s the first person in my life who seems to like me for me—instead of who my father is—I’m hoping to avoid that as long as possible.

And maybe that’s why I feel such a pull to James. Because for the first time in my life, there’s someone who wants me for me, not all the other bullshit that comes along with it.

“A man can have many things, darling.” He steps in closer. “But the only beauty I hope to have tonight is yours.”

“She’s right, you know. You should relax, let me wine and dine you properly.” He leans in, his lips skimming the top of my ear. “And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll show you the real reason why my mouth should be illegal.”

“You just told me to be a good girl, and you’d…you know.” His brow rises. “I’m not sure I do.”

Its giving Quest