Crossed (Never After, #5)

by Emily McIntire

It’s a cruel place here on earth, filled with people who don’t get it. Who choose not to understand that just because someone is different, it doesn’t mean they’re less than.

Most importantly, I learned not to trust anyone who says they love you, because in the end, they always love themselves the most.

If being here is sinful, then this woman is sin, wrapped in a fiery bow.

But temptation is a devastating mistress. It’s not my fault, I remind myself. I’m only human. And she is…all- consuming. Like hellfire.

I’m so fucking angry that this is even a thing I have to feel, that someone treating Quinten like a human being is a gift and not the bare minimum.

“Love you, Amaya. You’re a good mom, you know?” My eyes burn. “I’m not a mom.” “You are. In every way that counts.”

I cross my arms, and his gaze flicks down to my chest. “My eyes are up here, Father.” His nostrils flare and he straightens, moving forward until he’s leaning over my seat, his hands gripping the arms of my chair. “I know every single inch of you, petite pécheresse, as if you were painted by my hands.”

“You must be the worst priest in the history of the Catholic church.” I move forward until I’m centimeters away, and she falls back, pressing her hands against the wall. I stop myself just before I touch her, lifting my arms on either side of her head, caging her in. Dipping down, my nose runs along the expanse of her neck, breathing in the warmth of her skin. “Oh, petite pécheresse. Who ever said I was good?”

Regret swims through my veins like poison. She came to me first. And I turned her away.

I’ll find a soul trapped by demons, and I’ll kill them the same way I killed Andrew Gleeson. Because I just gave Amaya an alibi.

“Tu es la mienne, au cours de toutes nos vies,” I whisper in her ear. I push myself away from her, forcing the distance I’d do anything to erase. Then I’m gone, knowing that was goodbye.

“Si seulement tu savais quel est mon amour pour toi. You consume me, Amaya. Break apart my faith with the fire of a thousand suns and dominate every nightmare until all I dream is you.”

“But it can’t happen again.” “Because you’re Parker’s?” he sneers. “Because you’re God’s,”

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

We’re toxic for each other; therapists would tell me to scream as loud as I can and run in the opposite direction. But I’ve never been one for doing what I’m told.

“You said you’d never hurt me,” I murmur into his skin. “Never again.” “Every time you hurt yourself, you hurt me too,” I whisper. “Please stop hurting me.”

“She may be your wife, but she is my soul,” I whisper against his ear. “And I will cut you up piece by piece and burn your empire until it’s soot, just so I can watch her be queen of the ashes.”