Heart, Haunt, Havoc (The Gideon Testaments, #1)

by Freydís Moon

Colin hadn’t earned his place yet, but he typically didn’t have to: haunted places never failed to recognize haunted people.

The pair stood before each other, posturing like birds of prey or venomous snakes, two creatures unused to the idea of being known, or seen, or held.

“Sometimes shame is a lesson. Most of the time, it’s just a way for us to hate ourselves for the things we want.” They shifted their eyes to the door. “What do you know about shame?” “I’m Catholic,” Colin said matter-of-factly, and braved a touch to Bishop’s knuckles.

Grief, and betrayal, and fine-tuned desperation were learned, lived, and endured. People got better from a burst cyst, from an undercooked pork chop, from an impromptu breakup. But no one fully recovered from loss like this. They simply adapted to the sound of it, calloused to the feel of it.

“I tend to appreciate distance, but somehow, I haven’t found the fortitude to stop wanting you. I think about you often: when I’m awake, when I’m asleep, when I’m alone. Do you know what that’s like?” He huffed out an annoyed breath and glanced at Bishop, blushing hot. “To find yourself trapped in an unexpected orbit? To know someone’s power, to understand their pain, to get a glimpse of their heart?” He met their wide, tense eyes. “Before I slept with you, I daydreamed about you. Now that I’ve been with you, I’m consumed by you. How I feel about you, what I want from you . . . it’s thrilling; it’s excruciating. So, yes, you terrify me, Bishop.”

the bane of my existence!! the object of all my desires!!

Power recognized power. Like called unceremoniously to like.

Love, dead or alive, somewhere between the two, still clawed at them. Colin saw it in their glassy eyes, knew it in their loose shoulders and open, empty hands. Love, like possession, like a haunting, refused to rest.