Crossed (Never After, #5)

by Emily McIntire

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.

“We said we’d be friends.” “We are,” he groans. “Best friends, even.”

I AM A DEPRAVED MAN, AND I FEAR THERE IS NO CURE.

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

How I wish I could hate her instead. But my feelings for her grow stronger every day. Toxic, twisted, and greedy

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.

“Where are you?” Her voice is high- pitched. “Get home. Now. And call Parker. They found another body.”

“You don’t belong to him, mon trésor.” Our eyes lock, and my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “Then who do I belong to?” A sharp whistle cuts into the moment and we jump apart.

I cannot touch her. If I do, I’ll never recover. I won’t be able to leave her or this town. “Laisse moi te voir, mon trésor,” I rasp. Let me see you.

“Eyes on me,

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

He turns to look at everyone on the other side of the room. “I’ll stay out of the way, over here.”

“I want to be able to exist without you plaguing every single one of my thoughts. I feel sick, and— and obsessed. Please, Cade.”

“And what do you know of obsession? You’ve been tormenting my mind since the very first moment I saw you.”

“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.”

“You think you’re obsessed, petite pécheresse? You don’t know the meaning of the word.” And then he’s on me.

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

But what I’ve always known to be right doesn’t feel like it fits anymore. It’s shaved down with jagged edges, and I keep trying to shove it into the same round hole. Now, the only thing that feels right is her.

Amaya’s name slaps against my chest with every beat of my heart. Her moans echo in my mind, and the taste of her is imprinted on my tongue.

She poked and prodded, and my already frayed nerves broke into a thousand strings pooling at her feet.

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.

“I would never hurt you. I’m sorry I ever did.”

“Tell me I can have you,” he murmurs against me. “Tell me that you’re mine.” “Yours. Yes. Please

“Fuck me till it hurts, Cade. Please.” “I’m not going to fuck you, Amaya.”

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

He’s right. Our love hurts so much more.

“You love me, mon trésor?” She nods, turning her head slightly to suck my thumb into her mouth. “I live for you.”

“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.”

The woman’s eyes grow wide and she stumbles back, a hand flying to her chest. “Amaya,” she whispers, blood draining from her face. My mouth drops open and I blink in disbelief. Because standing right in front of me is my mother.

“Have you come to kill me, Parker?” I ask, nodding to the gun in front of him. He shrugs, leaning back in the chair, relaxed, as though he thinks he’s already won. “That depends on what you’ve done with my wife.” I grin. “Which time?”

“I won’t tell you to seek absolution from my mythical figure tonight, Monsieur Errien. You see, I worship Her now…so it’s to Amaya that you should pray. May She have mercy on your soul.”

“I think you’re about to be confused. Let me help you.”

“Don’t speak, my child. Just listen. Did you know Parker liked to make tapes?”

“He had a lot to confess over the past few months, Mrs. Gammond. His poor, unfortunate soul was more than happy to hand the tapes to the church, to ease his conscience and allow God to grant mercy on his soul.”

“If you don’t do exactly as I say, I will release them all. You’ll be the laughingstock of Vermont, blacklisted from every single career path you wish to take. I’ll put it on display so your mother sees it. Your father. Your husband. Your son. Do you understand?”

Three days later, a press conference is held with Detective Fuller announcing that with Florence Gammond’s help, they were able to connect the Green Mountain Strangler to Parker Errien. According to her, he was obsessed with his wife, Amaya, long before she agreed to be his. He stalked her to her work, killing Andrew out of a jealous rage. It was a fortuitous coincidence that he also frequented the woman I murdered on my first night.

Since Parker’s not around to dispute the charges, they assume he fled the scene, and a national manhunt is underway. They won’t find him. Not unless I decide they should.

His wife, on the other hand, is free and clear, and after the dust settles and we wind up wherever it is she wants to be, we’ll handle the assets that Parker’s lawyer insists are now in Amaya’s control.

He has no living relatives, no working will— the conceited prick— and no prenup signed to prevent ...

“And, petite pécheresse,” I whisper against her lips. “Tell me…who do you belong to?” “To myself.” My hand tightens on her face. She grins. “And to you, Cade Frédéric. My heart belongs to you. In all our lifetimes.”

I STAND BACK IN THE SHADOWS AND WATCH HER. Ma petite pécheresse. Mon trésor. My wife. She’s covered in blood. It turns me on.

She is my Bible. My scripture. My religion.

Besides, we were just married in a small outdoor ceremony.

She is my salvation. My hope. My temptation. My blood. My everything.

Her head falls back, perspiration lining her face, the blood splotches from the man she killed earlier making her seem like a fallen angel sent to earth just for me.

and I swear that I’ve never felt closer to God than I do when I’m inside my wife.

And I love her. In every lifetime.

Then again, I’m not sure that our love is something common. It hurts too good.