Crossed (Never After, #5)

by Emily McIntire

For anyone who’s afraid of making mistakes. To err is human. Give yourself some grace.

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

can smell the unholy matings permeating the air,

Um??? Off to a good start!

But experience shapes us whether we’d like it to or not, and the experiences she gave me were valuable lessons.

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

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.

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

And when I see Amaya’s angelic face walking out the Errien Enterprise doors, I follow her all the way back to her run-down apartment, a possessive fire burning through my veins.

Children— once they lose their innocence— are some of the cruelest creatures on earth.

A crush on a fucking priest. Leave it to me to finally have sexual attraction to a man who’s so off-limits, he’s a one- way ticket to hell.

L

“Because he’s the one who suggested Quinten be in the play.”

Dang he appears so nice

“Non,” I reply. “I’m always available for you, no matter the time.”

“It sucks to know you have the best kid in the world and can’t protect him from everyone else’s ugliness.”

And just because I can’t have her doesn’t mean anyone else can.

Boy-

It’s erotic taking a life.

My other hand, still tangled in her hair, pulls sharply, making her back bow against me, and I swear I could die right now and burn in hell forever as long as I kept the memory of feeling her come undone beneath my hands.

“Cette chatte est à moi,”

"this is mine"

Cade Frédéric isn’t safe. He’s the danger.

GOOD YOU HAVE A BRAIN

My heart— the traitorous bitch— flutters when our eyes lock.

Traitorous bitch fr

I breathe slow, deep, even breaths, reminding myself that I hold no claim to her. Not truly. Not when I’m already claimed by God. But words don’t matter when it feels like my name should be branded on her soul, burned so deep the world can feel the letters.

He’s stood up at some point, and now he’s leaning against his desk, ankles crossed and his hands in his pockets. Watching me. He’s always watching me.

cross my arms, and his gaze flicks down to my chest. “My eyes are up here, Father.”

HWLP

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

She will be my downfall, because I am just a man, and for her, I am weak.

At least we can agree men are weak

I swallow heavily, my mouth going dry. “Because this? This is impossible. We are impossible.”

“How can anyone blame me?” he rasps. “I am a man of God, mon trésor, but I am still just a man.”

"MY TREASURE"

“We said we’d be friends.” “We are,” he groans. “Best friends, even.” And now his lips do ghost across mine, so slight I could have imagined the touch, but it sets my entire body on fire anyway.

Very friendly

Besides, if a simple woman can bewitch me so easily, maybe I need more internal reflection than I realized. As if stalking the streets and murdering a man out of jealousy wasn’t reason enough.

She came to me first. And I turned her away.

L

“I’m not her husband yet. But by this weekend, she’ll be in my bed, where she belongs. And you, Father Cade, will be at the church. Because that’s where you belong.”

HSLP WHY CUS LOWKEY THAT MAKES SENSE

What kind of person is half in love with their stalker?

A deranged individual clearly

The same type of person who lets a priest pin her against a wall and fuck her with his fingers, I guess.

RAHAJ

A smile plays on her lips, and a spark of heat whips up my legs and through my middle. She’s so beautiful.

And I may not know what Amaya’s first words were or how old she was when she realized she wanted to dance, but I know she licks her lips when she’s nervous and that she mouths silent songs when she’s all alone. I know she loves control and hates being told what to do, and she’ll stuff down emotion until she’s vibrating from holding it in. I know her favorite color is emerald green, she hates dressing up, and she’s so beautiful even an angel can’t compare. So I knew she’d follow me into the kitchen, because I know Amaya Paquette, maybe better than she knows herself.

AAAAAA

“Laisse moi te voir, mon trésor,” I rasp. Let me see you.

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

“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.”

Amaya is made for me. And now that I’ve accepted what that means, I won’t have her any other way except by my side.

Why would God put her in my path if not for her to become mine? 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.

I’m desperate for more of his words. More of his obsession. More of his truth.

Cade makes me feel free. Makes me feel seen. He makes me feel loved. And I don’t care about anything else.

I need him like I need air.

That’s an awful lot girl

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

????? *man then proceeds to fuck her anyways*

My body aches and my soul is sated, and I close my eyes and press my ear against his chest, letting myself relax to the sound of his beating heart. He’s right. Our love hurts so much more.

This sounds like sex to me but I’ve been wrong before

My stomach twists. “You should always be with me.”

AYYY

“I would kill a thousand men if it made sure you were mine.”

UGH BOOK MEN ARE SOOO...

“I don’t hate you, Cade,” she murmurs, her eyes locking with mine. “I’m in love with you.”

ME TOO RAAHG

And when we do, reason starts to filter back in. I sit back, running a hand through my hair and glancing around the sanctuary, making sure nobody came in. Making sure nobody saw.

UM LITTLE LATE FOR THAT

and although it’s certainly not the appropriate time for it, I’m hard as a rock.

WHEN IS THAT EVER APPROPRIATE