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“Time’s up, Juliana,” I whispered, grazing my lip against the top shell of her ear.
It was finally time to make Juliana Savoie mine.
Even now, the distant memories of what we once had were seared into my mind as if they’d been engraved there with painful precision.
“Well, the villain doesn’t see himself as the villain. He sees himself as misunderstood. The world is stacked against him and has no compassion for his cause.”
A simple apology wouldn’t have corrected it because we were both in different places. She couldn’t change who she was and where she was in that pivotal time in her life, and I couldn’t see past my own desires and rage and hurt to see if we could mend it.
Even while my gut hollowed out at the sound of her heaving and weeping, sick with remorse, I lay there, her grief a dark balm to my bruised soul. Like a cool, black shroud spreading over me, I mourned what we’d lost. In silence. And alone.
A fear that didn’t control me anymore but still lingered like all of those old ghosts we’d yet to banish.
“I’ve been bleeding inwardly for over a decade.”
“If you tried, I’d fry you where you stand,” I replied just as pleasantly without a hint of anger. Because I wasn’t. I was simply annoyed by his unbelievable arrogance. “You’d be a bag of magicless bones before you could blink.”
