ways I could never imagine. Even worse than me. An angel in Hell, Gracen. He won’t have it easy.”
“Do you think they’ll turn him into a demon, too.” I have no idea how all this Heaven and Hell and angels and demons things work.
“Don’t know either. It won’t be pretty whatever they do to him.” Hart sighs. He doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t even flinch. “That’s why we have to get him back.”
“Get him back…” I can’t finish my thought because Hart has already gotten up from the bed and is pacing toward the door.
“Cliffs Notes version of what’s been going on, Gracen. The world went to Hell three days ago. I’ve been giving you demon blood since then to help you cure yourself.”
I stop him right there. “But all those bottles. That was way too much blood. Even for you. You couldn’t have…”
He looks away.
“You’ve been getting blood from other demons.” I lie back and shut my eyes, willing this all to go away. Why it feels like a betrayal to me, I’m not sure. It shouldn’t. One demon’s blood was as sick and twisted to ingest as another’s, but at least I know Hart. Strange as it is, I know him. He’s been with me, well, since the beginning. Might as well drink the blood of the demon you know…
This can’t be my life.
“It’s not like I’ve been whoring you out or anything. I was nice and brought the blood to you.”
“And what d emon would willingly give their blood to me. To an abomination who, if you haven’t thought about it, will have both Heaven and Hell on her butt.”
“You have a nice butt.”
I’ll kill him.
In poker, they call it a tell. Something someone does when either he or she is lying or nervous. Hart has a tell. He can’t look at me when he’s fixing to lie or tell me something I don’t want to hear. Oh, I want to hear. I want to hear it all.
“Where did you get the blood, Hart?”
He rolls over me, hesitating slightly when he’s directly above me. Then, just like that, he’s on the floor, picking up the trash bag with all the little water bottles in it. All those little water bottles. Once filled with blood. What in the world did I do? He clears his throat. I don’t think I’m going to like this.
“I wouldn’t go downstairs if I were you.”
“Hart!” I scream at him, but he’s already left my room.
“Don’t go downstairs!” He yells back.
Yup, first thing I’m gonna do when I turn completely is go downstairs and kill him.
CHAPTER THREE
S AM HAS HIS HANDS IN MINE , lazily stroking my fingers with his. The sun isn’t as warm today, and I feel the coldness creeping in again, like I had before the demon blood.
I look up at him to ask what’s really going on. Why we are dressed like Walton’s Mountain rejects? Why we never go to the house? Why we always stay here in this one place? But when my eyes meet his, every word I can think of freezes in my throat.
Sam.
My Sam.
He’s so beautiful, if one used beautiful to describe a man. If one did, Sam would meet every requirement, check every box.
Sam, my Sam.
“Stay with me.” He whispers, his fingers leave mine and follow the curves of my skin down my arms. I giggle when they touch the tender spot behind my arm. He keeps going. Keeps staring at me. Keeps holding my gaze in his. “Stay with me.”
Yes. I want to stay with him. I’d stay with him forever. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s all I want now. We can be together, here. Get married. Raise our kids. Take care of our grandkids. We can do anything we want as long as we’re together.
As long as I am Gracen and he is Sam and the world doesn’t disappear around us.
I don’t answer right away. It’s a simple yes, but yes seems so wrong. Like the word itself is too simple. Too plain for everything I mean for it to say.
Yes, I’ll stay with you.
Yes, I’ll love you forever.
Yes, I’ll be a good wife.
Yes, I want to have children with you.
Yes, you are my world.
Yes.
Yes…
I can see the
“Do you think they’ll turn him into a demon, too.” I have no idea how all this Heaven and Hell and angels and demons things work.
“Don’t know either. It won’t be pretty whatever they do to him.” Hart sighs. He doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t even flinch. “That’s why we have to get him back.”
“Get him back…” I can’t finish my thought because Hart has already gotten up from the bed and is pacing toward the door.
“Cliffs Notes version of what’s been going on, Gracen. The world went to Hell three days ago. I’ve been giving you demon blood since then to help you cure yourself.”
I stop him right there. “But all those bottles. That was way too much blood. Even for you. You couldn’t have…”
He looks away.
“You’ve been getting blood from other demons.” I lie back and shut my eyes, willing this all to go away. Why it feels like a betrayal to me, I’m not sure. It shouldn’t. One demon’s blood was as sick and twisted to ingest as another’s, but at least I know Hart. Strange as it is, I know him. He’s been with me, well, since the beginning. Might as well drink the blood of the demon you know…
This can’t be my life.
“It’s not like I’ve been whoring you out or anything. I was nice and brought the blood to you.”
“And what d emon would willingly give their blood to me. To an abomination who, if you haven’t thought about it, will have both Heaven and Hell on her butt.”
“You have a nice butt.”
I’ll kill him.
In poker, they call it a tell. Something someone does when either he or she is lying or nervous. Hart has a tell. He can’t look at me when he’s fixing to lie or tell me something I don’t want to hear. Oh, I want to hear. I want to hear it all.
“Where did you get the blood, Hart?”
He rolls over me, hesitating slightly when he’s directly above me. Then, just like that, he’s on the floor, picking up the trash bag with all the little water bottles in it. All those little water bottles. Once filled with blood. What in the world did I do? He clears his throat. I don’t think I’m going to like this.
“I wouldn’t go downstairs if I were you.”
“Hart!” I scream at him, but he’s already left my room.
“Don’t go downstairs!” He yells back.
Yup, first thing I’m gonna do when I turn completely is go downstairs and kill him.
CHAPTER THREE
S AM HAS HIS HANDS IN MINE , lazily stroking my fingers with his. The sun isn’t as warm today, and I feel the coldness creeping in again, like I had before the demon blood.
I look up at him to ask what’s really going on. Why we are dressed like Walton’s Mountain rejects? Why we never go to the house? Why we always stay here in this one place? But when my eyes meet his, every word I can think of freezes in my throat.
Sam.
My Sam.
He’s so beautiful, if one used beautiful to describe a man. If one did, Sam would meet every requirement, check every box.
Sam, my Sam.
“Stay with me.” He whispers, his fingers leave mine and follow the curves of my skin down my arms. I giggle when they touch the tender spot behind my arm. He keeps going. Keeps staring at me. Keeps holding my gaze in his. “Stay with me.”
Yes. I want to stay with him. I’d stay with him forever. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s all I want now. We can be together, here. Get married. Raise our kids. Take care of our grandkids. We can do anything we want as long as we’re together.
As long as I am Gracen and he is Sam and the world doesn’t disappear around us.
I don’t answer right away. It’s a simple yes, but yes seems so wrong. Like the word itself is too simple. Too plain for everything I mean for it to say.
Yes, I’ll stay with you.
Yes, I’ll love you forever.
Yes, I’ll be a good wife.
Yes, I want to have children with you.
Yes, you are my world.
Yes.
Yes…
I can see the
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