Crossed (Never After, #5)

by Emily McIntire

When I had seen you twice, I wanted to see you a thousand times, I wanted to see you always. Then— how stop myself on that slope of hell?— then I no longer belonged to myself. — Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre- Dame

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.

Because even now, she’s already creeping back in. This stranger. Ma petite pécheresse. My little sinner.

“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.”

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

“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.”