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felt loneliness now, but instead of claustrophobia, I felt power in it. I’d been numb for so long, I welcomed each new feeling with open arms—good or bad.
I was a five-foot-nothing ball of rage. I ran on plant fuel and sarcasm—even dragging a thousand-pound chain of trauma behind me, I still only weighed about five pounds soaking wet. I knew I was about as intimidating as a bug-eyed chihuahua. Even with the vitriol I consumed like coffee I was still self-aware enough to realize I’d spent more of my life under fists than I had raising my own.
Looking at Blair Evans was like staring into the sun. Too long, and I was sure he would blind me.
Blair was a hurricane, a storm, a natural disaster. Beautiful and world-shattering, with the power to rewrite the future and repaint the past.
“You’re a fucking badass. Even though you look a bit like a wet rat right now and people say black cats are kinda unlucky. That’s okay. I’m kinda unlucky too.”
He was so fucking pretty I wanted to crush him like a petal between my fingers. What the fuck. What the fuck, Richard?
“Blair.” The way he said my name made my cock twitch with want. It was exasperation and care. It said, ‘listen to me,’ it said, ‘let me help you,’ it said, ‘I’m here.’
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, surprised when I realized that I’d reached for his wrist without meaning to.
“Because you deserve to be helped,” he finally told me.
couldn’t do it. You’re a coward. I just couldn’t. You’re a coward. Not again.
And then Richard finally spoke. “No, baby. I didn’t burn your house down.” His voice was made of patience, of kindness, of comfort. But most of all, there was understanding laced like spun silk in every word.
Baby from Richard meant, ‘It’s okay not to be in charge right now, it’s okay to feel small.’ It meant, ‘It’s okay because I’ve got you.’ It meant, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ It meant, ‘It’s going to be okay.’
God, Richard better not sparkle like Edward fucking Cullen or I was going to have to do something drastic. Like burn the city down.
He didn’t get angry. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all, just grabbed my glass, left with it, and returned with it full again. Soft. He was so fucking soft.
Richard was a cocoa wielding, flannel wearing, sex machine who may or may not be undead.
It said, ‘take your time.’ It said, ‘there’s no rush.’ It said, ‘your demons are yours.’ It said, ‘I’m here when you need me to be.’
my lashes grow heavy. I’d never been bare before someone else like this before. It made me feel both powerful and vulnerable, all at once. Like a god come down to Earth, trapped in human skin but finally able to feel for the first time in his long, lonely existence.
His eyes were rivers of wine, intoxicating, beautiful, dangerous. They said, ‘trust me.’ They said, ‘let me have this.’ They said, ‘let me worship you.’
It was easier like this, some of the strain taken from the muscles as my cock leaked a steady drip against my lower belly, decorating the curl of my dark treasure trail with jewels of pleasure.
Why is she so good at doing similarity, likeeee
Oh. Oh.
looking more insecure than I’d ever seen him look before. His face said, ‘Did I do okay?’ It said, ‘I’ve never done this before.’ It said, ‘Please, tell me I didn’t hurt you.’
Maybe by staying… I’d found what I’d been looking for all along? My backbone.
Offffff
Vanity was crying, her hair a mess around her face, eyes redder than the tips of her curls. She looked wild. Terrified. Determined. Armed. With a gun. And it was pointed right at me. “Keep going.” Her voice was rough with emotion and I struggled to speak.
could feel my mother’s spirit in the whisper of wind through the yellow grass. I could sense her laughter in the breeze that caressed my cheek, pushing my bangs out of my face in a mirror of the motion she’d repeated a thousand times when I’d been just a child.
I’d never seen the devil before. Never thought I would.
it made me wonder what had to happen to a person for them to become so inherently evil. Was evil inherited or was it bred through experience?
The woman who had stolen his childhood. The woman who had terrorized him. Locked him away. Touched him. I couldn’t blame him. What was he going to do? There was nothing but death written like poetry in the space between us. There was no time for heroics. No time for him to push through the instinct that had been beaten into him since he was eight years old and held pinched between her talons. We would die together. And despite his silence, with my last dying breath I would make sure Blair knew how fucking brave he was. And then he spoke.
I’d wondered why she hadn’t killed me earlier, that much made sense but… Jeffrey was… Jeffrey was Markus? So much was beginning to slot into place. Collin and Jeffrey’s similarities.
Vanity’s fingers stroked gently along the inside of my wrist, a caress that said, ‘I’m sorry.’ It said, ‘I believe you.’ It said, ‘I was wrong.’ The rope loosened, and Vanity stepped back. I had one chance. I had one fucking chance.
I am brave. I am brave. I am brave. “You’re jealous.” I exhaled, forging forward, desperate for that one last step to close between us. “Because deep down, you know—” I took a steadying breath. “No amount of money or designer clothing could ever cover up the fact that you’re just a sad miserable hag who is nothing but the dollar store version of my mother.”
saw a future in his scarlet eyes. They said, ‘You’re safe now.’ They said, ‘I’m sorry.’ They said, ‘come home with me.’ They said, ‘It’s time to breathe.’ And so I did.
