Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys, #3)

by Nikki St. Crowe

Holt hates my fucking guts. Sometimes I fantasize about liberating him from his.

How do you sum up being whole again? How do you sum up the feeling of being alive where once you were dead?

“The shadow doesn’t care if Darling girls bleed,” he says. “But what I am beyond the shadow…that does.”

It was always meant to be Vane. We will all have her, but Vane might get a part of her that the rest of us can never see.

And yet we still hunger for permanence and substance, something solid beneath our feet that we can call our own. Something we can belong to. The word love comes to mind. To love and be loved.

To cling to something, not because you are afraid, but because you are happy.

The lagoon gives and it takes.’”

There is no way to tame a man like Peter Pan and yet I feel like I’ve been gifted a part of him that no one else has and that might be the most profound thing I’ve ever possessed when I’ve possessed so little.

“I think anything left to be what it was instead of trying to be something it isn’t should be commended.”

Women fascinate me. They are almost always underestimated, which makes them potentially some of the most lethal opponents.

Like walking up to a jungle cat thinking you’re going to give its head a gentle little pat and instead it bites off your whole goddamn arm.

We are all creatures of debauchery, debased at the core.