Crossed (Never After, #5)

by Emily McIntire

I want to hear her voice. Smell her skin. Paint my sickness on her soul. A single glance in her direction and I’m a ravenous dog, desperate for a crumb.

“I know every single inch of you, petite pécheresse, as if you were painted by my hands.”

If she were to go up against God, she may come out the victor. My faith keeps me warm, but she burns like molten lead. She will be my downfall, because I am just a man, and for her, I am weak.

“Tu es la mienne, au cours de toutes nos vies,”

If she is a succubus, then seduce me. If she is my devil, then I will gladly burn.

“I’m going to love you. Because loving you hurts so much more.”

“Sister…” I add, right before I walk out of the door. “If something happens to her while I’m gone, I will make the devil look like a saint.”