To Flame a Wild Flower (Crystal Bloom, #3)

by Sarah A. Parker

He saw the worst parts of me. My weakness. My ugly secret. He saw the full, unguarded horror of my monstrous mistake. My horrendous confession—unwittingly given from a guilty subconscious that was overflowing with all the lives I’d taken. He saw me … yet he still came to Bahari. Stood before me and absorbed my blows. Tried to sponge my pain and stop me from hurting myself. Me? I took one look at his monster and murdered him.

Even so, the pull to follow him is fierce. If I were to tuck into a ball, I’m certain gravity would roll me toward a swift end. Like I’m tethered to him, my soul seeking his.

I look into his hollow eyes, and all I see is a lost, lonely boy desperate to prove his worth. He’s reaching for a love that isn’t his, and I understand that brutal beast too fucking well.

I look at her bloodied arm as the wind pulls her scent to me, punched with the metallic tang of not just her blood, but also that of a goat. Fuck. “You asked Maars a question …” Her gaze calcifies into a cold, bitter mask. “Yes.” “And?” “He told me why I don’t die no matter how many times I stab.”

We’re two monsters in the dark, painful secrets lodged between us like dual-tipped spikes. I can’t move any closer without hurting him, and I won’t. Not again.

This close up, I realize how small I am. How fragile. A single speck of light. Yet he’s looking at me like I’m the sun he orbits.

I’m buying us moments, sidestepping fate, only to tether it to our heels where it’ll snap at us with every forward step for the rest of our lives. But like a starving thief, I’ll take those stolen moments and devour each one until there’s nothing left to steal.