Butcher And Blackbird Quotes

I didn’t gouge them out, Butcher. I plucked them. Delicately. Like a lady.

I would kill for you, and I have. I would do it again, every damn day. I’d turn myself inside out for you. I would die for you. I don’t just like you, Sloane, and you fucking know it.

There's art in our scars. There's wonder in the way we can heal.

Maybe I was right. We’re not normal people. We are monsters. But if we’re monsters, we’ll thrive in the dark. Together.

Boobs plus murder don’t equal a relationship, Lark. That math ain’t mathin’.

You have never been unlovable. You were just waiting for someone who will love you for who you are, not for who they want you to be. I can do that, if you'll let me.

For those of you who read the trigger warnings and said “Accidental cannibalism?! Count me in!” This one’s for you.

You might be psycho,” I say with a grin as her eyes narrow, “but you’re my psycho, and I’m yours. Got it?

Did you just propose on a napkin with a ring you stuffed in a guy’s eye hole?

Being a serial killer who kills serial killers is a great hobby… Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

I want to ruin her so that she’s mine, my beautiful disaster. My wild creature. My goddess of chaos.

He’s Rowan,” Sloane says, gesturing at me again. Rose narrows her eyes as though this is insufficient information. “He’s my f-fr…boy. Guy. A man-guy. I’m…with. Here.”  I snort a laugh as Rose’s face scrunches. “Man-guy,” I echo. “Real smooth, Blackbird.

I just want to be tossed around a bit. Manhandled, you know? Call me a dirty little slut and I’m all for it.

I think we’re officially best friends now,” she says.  “Oh yeah? Do you want to go do karate in the garage?

You know what they say, Blackbird. ‘It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye,’” I whisper. “And that’s when the real fun begins.

You’ll love me one day,

No boys allowed unless they have scales and a breeding kink.

Pick a safe word. Do it now.” I swallow. Hard. “Chainsaw.” He huffs a laugh, a burst of warmth against my core. “How fitting, love. Now be a good girl and find something to grab on to…” he says, then passes one long, slow lick over my center. “...Because I’m about to destroy you.

And sometimes the best things come out of the fire.

Because I ‘like you’...?” Rowan cackles an incredulous laugh. “Like. You. Seriously…? Christ, Sloane. You are fucking brilliant but also the most willfully oblivious person I have ever met. Do you really think I just like you when I framed a drawing you left for me on a scrap of paper you tore from a notebook? The one I hung it in the kitchen so I can look at it every day and think of you? Do you think I just like you when I tattoo it on my skin? I play this fucking game every year and tear my heart out watching you walk away, only to do it all over again, and I like you? You think I just like you when I fuck you like this?

Did I get the raven you left on the table tattooed on my back?” His smile is teasing, but there’s a hint of shyness in it as he finishes my thought. “Yeah. Appears to be the case.

Come on, Blackbird. I need some dragonman DP.

Something caught your eye, pretty boy?” I whisper.  “Yes,” he says, his voice pained. “God, yes, Sloane. All of you.

I’m not taking the most beautiful girl of the night to the social event of the year in a fucking Honda Accord.

Lobotomy,’ I mouth at him, trying to make it look like I’m scratching my forehead when I tap it and nod toward David. Rowan’s head tilts and I roll my eyes, gritting my teeth. ‘Lo-bo-to-my.’ Rowan’s head tilts in the other direction, his brow still furrowed but a hint of a grin playing at his lips. He subtly points at me, and then at himself. ‘You love me?’ he mouths.  I smack my head.

I thought I told you once not to let your prettiness get to your head,” she says.   “Just had to check that you still think I’m pretty.

What are you doing?” I hiss. Rowan rests the handle of the ax against his shoulder and huffs before giving me a wink. “Getting revenge for hurting my girl, of course.

But finding someone who could understand me for all the shattered pieces beneath the mask? I needed that. Before you came along, something was missing. You, Rowan. You were missing. You made it safe to feel seen. Safe to play on our terms. Safe to have fun, even though our fun might not be everyone’s idea of a good time.

You’re all the best things to me, Sloane. No matter how many bruises are in your heart or on your skin.

You fucking tell me, so that you know when I ruin you for all other men, it’s what you asked for.

That woman you were watching…?” My fingers tighten around his throat as he desperately nods. “She is mine.

I had to dig human ass out of your mouth.

I have an eggplant face. That’s basically a dick face. A mushy dick face with a Carhartt logo.

No. Christ. Now give me that dragon dick, Blackbird.”  “No way.” I manage to slip out of my chair with the e-reader before he can grab me, waving it toward him in a taunt as I back away toward our rooms. “Goodnight, weirdo. I’m going to bed. Early bird gets the worm, you know. Might plan myself a solo hiking trip to Davis Creek. No boys allowed unless they have scales and a breeding kink.”  “Of all the times to forget my dinosaur onesie at home.” Rowan sighs,

Maybe I was right. We're not normal people. We are monsters. But if we're monsters, we'll thrive in the dark. Together.

What does my nervous little Blackbird like to read, I wonder?

No one competes with Sloane.” Rowan’s eyes anchor on mine, dragging me into the depths of a navy sea.  “She just hasn’t realized it yet.

Are you going to leave that sticker on your face?”  Rowan scoffs. “Of course. Makes me prettier.

I love you, Rowan,” I blurt out. I take only a moment to register the shock in Rowan’s expression before I barrel into him, wrapping his solid body in my embrace. His heart hammers beneath my ear as I press my face to his chest.  His arms fold around me, one hand threading into my hair as he lays a kiss to the crown of my head. “I love you too, Sloane. So fucking much. But the restaurant was probably a giant clue.

Being a serial killer who kills serial killers is a great hobby … Until you find yourself locked in a cage. For three days. With a dead body. In the Louisiana summer. With no air conditioning.

I’m going to steal your e-reader. I want to read about the two-dick dragonman.”  “I’m sitting on it. Touch my ass and I’ll break your hand,” I say, failing to contain a laugh as he rhythmically prods my arm.  “I won’t. I’ll push you over and grab it, then cackle maniacally as I run to my room in triumph.

Maybe that’s why I like you,” he says with a wink.

I’d teach you a lesson about wanting. About wanting to come so badly you have to beg for it.” My cock hardens as Sloane’s blood surges against my fingertips. “And once I was sure you’d learned that lesson, I’d teach you about wanting to stop coming so badly you beg for that too.

Rowan, you feckin’ eejit,

There’s art in our scars. There’s wonder in the way we can heal.

What’s your angle, pretty boy?” “To make you blush, of course.

You are the thing I most look forward to, Rowan.

Being a serial killer who kills serial killers is a great hobby…

I’M SURE NOBODY GOES ON vacation expecting to be dismembered and put through a woodchipper, but some tourists are just assholes and deserve their fate.

The sentient dragonman has two dicks and he knows how to use them. A forked tongue too. And a very talented tail. So don’t make fun.

He looks at me in a way that no one else does, as though he’s not just trying to decipher my thoughts and motivations. It’s like he’s trying to memorize the smallest details in my skin, to uncover every secret trapped behind my flesh.

Did you know it was a rump roast? I tortured Thorsten until he told me. I had to dig human ass out of your mouth.” “At least you didn’t fucking swallow it, Sloane. Why the fuck didn’t you stop me?

What the hell. Is this a new phase in your Crossfit indoctrination, walking around with raw root vegetables?”  “Beta carotene, motherfucker. Antioxidants. I’m helping my body eliminate free radicals.”  “Take a vitamin. You look like a douche.

There's relief knowing I can love and be loved, after years wondering if I was so broken that there was only room for vengeance and loneliness in my heart.

You’re my friend. Maybe someday my best friend.

How do you still have the energy to take the piss out of me?” “I always have the energy for that. Your suffering is my number one priority.

It physically pains me to admit that, by the way. But don’t let it get to your head, pretty boy.”  A smirk creeps across my lips. “You think I’m pretty.

This man. Sometimes it feels as if he’ll never stop cracking my heart to fit more of himself inside.

You have murder too, he likes that.”  I roll my eyes and stare her down through the screen. “Boobs plus murder don’t equal a relationship, Lark. That math ain’t mathin’.

What are you doing?” “I’m boobing boobily, Rowan. What does it look like?” “You’re … what?” “Chasing that motherfucker down, that’s what.

And then, in red text as though it was added at a later date: IMMEDIATELY. I AM NOT FUCKING AROUND.

I miss the way he makes me feel like I'm not an aberration, but unique.

I’m 100% positive that I hate you And I’m 100% positive you’ll love me one day

Sloane in the only person in the world who can look at my monster and find a friend.

The Orb Weaver. I’m sitting across the table from the fucking Orb Weaver.  And she’s fucking beautiful.

That’s so cute,” Lark says as she lays her chin on my shoulder and reads the note, pointing to the red text. “It sounds like he’s going to cut people up for you. That’s so Keanu-mantic.

I wish you would have stayed, Blackbird. I would have taken you back into the kitchen. We could have made something together.”  “You were busy. I was…intruding.”  “I would have made time for you. You’re…” I swallow before I can say more than I should. “You’re my friend. Maybe someday my best friend.

I didn’t gouge them out, Butcher. I plucked them. Delicately. Like a lady.” Sloane sticks her finger in her mouth, pressing it against her cheek as she wraps her lips around it only to snap it out with a pop. “Just like that.

Well, well,” Lachlan says through his shit-eating grin. “Fuck. Off.

Now let’s go do karate in the garage.”  “By ‘karate’ do you mean I’ll bend you over the hood of Doctor Stephan’s Porsche and fuck you blind until you beg me to stop?

You're all the best things to me, Sloane. No matter how many bruises are in your heart or on your skin.

Getting revenge for hurting my girl,

I told her I'm no angel. I don't think she believed me. But she's about to discover that I'm the devil she never knew she needed.

And across the full front of the restaurant, stretching over the door and the awning, a massive sign in block letters.  Butcher & Blackbird.

I’d rather watch you make skin ornaments and eye baubles than go to the kitchen and check on Lobotomy David. Let’s just go with that.

Wider.

just as the garage door slides open and the car barrels out of the building.  So I do what any sane person would do.  I jump on the fucking hood.

I would kill for you, and I have. I would do it again, every damn day. I'd turn myself inside out for you. I would die for you.

We’re both monsters, after all.  Different monsters, thrust together in the cage I’ve created.

I’m on a dry spell. You’d think there would be some hot musician types on the road but they’re all way too emo. I just want to be tossed around a bit. Manhandled, you know? Call me a dirty little slut and I’m all for it. These cry-into-the-mic types aren’t doing it for me.

See? Right there. Carhartt. Why couldn’t he have just punched me in the face like a normal person?”   “Probably because he wasn’t a normal person, love. I thought the chainsaw was a big clue.

Oh my God. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong. It had to be a woman. The Orb Weaver! Such a cool name. The intricate fishing line, the fucking eyeballs. Amazing. I’m such a huge fan.

My art was never so tarnished that I couldn't bear to create it. It makes me wonder what would strip art from Sloane so thoroughly that she can no longer paint or sculpt, reduced to monochrome.

Rowan doesn’t move for a moment that feels stretched thin. When he approaches, he stops behind me, the weight of his gaze so heavy on my reflection that I can feel it through the glass. “Beautiful.

What the hell. Is this a new phase in your Crossfit indoctrination, walking around with raw root vegetables?”  “Beta carotene, motherfucker. Antioxidants. I’m helping my body eliminate free radicals.

Because just like as much as I might appear quiet and spooked on the outside, I am also a serial killer who enjoys vivisection and a bit of cartography. And I also enjoy an annual murder competition.

You’ll love me someday.”  One of my steps falters.  Today is that day.  Maybe yesterday too. And the day before that. Maybe for a while, in fact.  I can’t tell exactly when it started, but I don’t think it will ever stop.

He looks like a Picasso,” she continues as she nods toward Francis’s destroyed face. Her hand flows in his direction with bird-like grace. “Eyes over here, nose over there. Very artsy, Butcher. Embracing your Cubism era. Cool.

She likes to remind me not to let my prettiness get to my head, but I know what I am and what effect I can have. I’m muscle and scars blended with scripts and swirls of black ink. The same way I look at her and find beauty in the marks that are only temporary, she looks at me and I know she feels the same. There’s art in our scars. There’s wonder in the way we can heal.

That color doesn’t remind me of eggplant, for what it’s worth. It reminds me of blackberries. The best berry, if you ask me. It reminds me of irises. They have the best scent of any flower. It reminds me of night, just before dawn. The best time of day.

You’re right about all those worries that are circling around in your head. Maybe all of them are true. But maybe it shouldn’t matter, because everyone messes up. We all let each other down once in a while. And sometimes the best things come out of the fire.

I’m guessing you made it your business too, judging by the quality of the hunting knife stuck in his throat. Handmade Damascus steel. Where’d you get it?” I sigh. My gaze lingers on the body and my favorite blade before I press my cheeks to my drawn-up knees. “Etsy.

Since you asked so nicely, I’ll give you this one and let you come. But you’d better find your voice quick, little bird. Because we’ve only just started, and I will keep this up as long as it takes until I’m satisfied that you’re not hiding from me. By the end of this, you’ll scream. That’s a fucking promise.

The need. It's like an itch. Irritation beneath my skin. Nothing I do releases the constant whisper of it in my flesh. It crawls into my mind and doesn't let go. It becomes pain. The longer I deny it, the more it drags me into the abyss. I must stop it. I'll do anything. And there's only one thing that works. Killing.

I wish you would have stayed, Blackbird. I would have taken you back into the kitchen. We could have made something together.

I did not cheat. And besides, I lost. Miserably, I might add. I still can’t eat ice cream.

Then you’d better kiss me,” I whisper back.

Don’t be. Wouldn’t have wound up here if everything hadn’t happened the way it did,

Art is long, and time is fleeting, and our hearts, though stout and brave, still, like muffled drums, are beating funeral marches to the grave.

This is one game you won’t win, Blackbird.

But you have a standing reservation at 3 In Coach,

That can-can motherfucker stamped my fucking forehead. I can even see the Carhartt logo on it,

You know what they say, Blackbird. ‘It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye,’” I whisper.

Come back to Boston, Fionn. Stop wallowing like some Hallmark Movie Sad Man Cinderwhatever and come home to practice some real medicine.

It ignites a sensation I'm always chasing but am never quite able to grasp. There's never enough risk to scare me. There's never enough reward to satiate me. Unitl now.

I do well with a bit of chaos. Maybe that's why I like you, he says with a wink.

All that fury combined with all that shyness, all her lethal ability wrapped in an easily flustered package. She's so fucking adorable.

We're both monsters, after all. Different monsters, thrust together in the cage I've created.

Hope that they can absorb me into another world. One where I don't have to feel anything. Because revenge is easy. But everything else is hard.

Killing bound us together, and its a compulsion neither of us can live without. This need, and now this game between us, consumes me as much as she does.

Don’t you Blackbird me. That can-can motherfucker stamped my fucking forehead. I can even see the Carhartt logo on it,

That woman you were watching …?” My fingers tighten around his throat as he desperately nods. “She is mine.

and unfolds it to reveal the

The skin splits open and a white mass of maggots tumbles out, like little orzo pastas.

I’ll be right back, David,

For those of you who read the trigger warnings and said “Accidental cannibalism?! Count me in!” This one’s for you.

Keep her fucking name out of your mouth,” I snarl.

For those of you who read the trigger warnings and said, “Accidental cannibalism?! Count me in!” This one’s for you.

I am not unlovable.” She jabs her bloody finger in my direction, punctuating every word. “I am very fucking lovable.

He looks like he should be trying to pick up girls with a dumbass avatar that looks literally nothing like him as he streams on Twitch or something, not running a hotel in nowhere,

His blue eyes hold mine, the shade of the deep sea beneath the sun.

You have never been unlovable. You were just waiting for someone who will love you for who you are, not for who they want you to be. I can do that, if you’ll let me.

Sloane.

You’ll love me someday.

pain,

My hand folds around her throat, one finger at a time pressing into her skin, her pulse like music beneath my palm.

I know they’re small, but somehow they remind me of armor.

You'll love me someday

He didn't just open my cage, he shattered it, and the first breaths of freedom burn in my lungs.

Maybe I was right. We're not normal people. We are monsters. But if we're monsters, we'll thrive in the dark. Together.

Constantine

She never fails to chime in with a random yet relevant movie line.

See? I told you so. See you in West Virginia,

fuck it. If I’m going to be a psycho, I’m going to be the hottest damn psycho Logan International Airport has ever seen.

Did you know it was a rump roast? I tortured Thorsten until he told me. I had to dig human ass out of your mouth.

From the second we met, she sparked my curiosity, fanning banked embers into glowing coals, and now she’s ignited the first thread of flame.

Touch that fucking table and I will rip your goddamn hands off and use them to wipe my ass until the day I die,” Rowan snarls.

When we're apart, her absence is an entity.

Rowan rests the handle of the ax against his shoulder and huffs before giving me a wink. “Getting revenge for hurting my girl, of course.

When I slide onto the seat, there’s a line of text in a simple cursive script, branded into the surface of the wood. ‘Blackbird’s Booth,’ it says.

Sloane the goddess of chaos at the heart of it all.

Every time I think of her, my heart reminds me I’m not as dead on the inside as I thought after all.

would never suspect I’d be capable of murdering anyone.

I am going to have so much fucking fun punishing her.

Knives Out. Radiohead.

Wherever she’s gone, I know in this moment that I can bring her back.

And I guarantee that you could wear a potato sack and still be the most beautiful woman here. The dress is stunning, Blackbird. Perfectly you.

Keep her fucking name out of your mouth,

Maybe I was right. We’re not normal people. We are monsters.  But if we’re monsters, we’ll thrive in the dark.  Together.

Don’t you Blackbird me. That can-can motherfucker stamped my fucking forehead. I can even see the Carhartt logo on it,” she says,

You could take a little trip to Boston to visit your Butcher man and see about ending that dry spell. Fill that well, sister.

Rowan,” she whispers. “Mine.” Her eyes shine in the moonlight. “Okay.” She nods in my grip. “He’s yours.

I’m 100% positive that I hate you. And I’m 100% positive you’ll love me one day!

Sloane bleeds into every thought. When we’re apart, her absence is an entity. I worry for her. I dream of her. And yesterday, I almost lost her.

Like some kind of vicious, battle-hardened goddess of vengeance.”  Sloane snorts. “Goddess of vengeance my ass.

We’ll see, my grin says.

Rowan Kane, always threatening me with a good time.

He’s probably assigning numeric values to knowing the gossip versus being out of the loop, and is weighing the statistical probability of his happiness divided by pi.  Fucking nerd.

What are you doing?” “What I should have done the other day. I’m cooking with you,” I say. “We’re going to make it together. Put the phone on speaker and start grating the parmesan.

Eggplant,” I say, my voice tremulous. “It’s the worst vegetable.”  Rowan’s huff of a laugh warms my neck and sends a current through my skin. “It’s not. Celery is the worst vegetable.

Now that we’ve established that everything I told you is a fucking promise,” he grits out as he intensifies the rhythm of his thrusts, “we should probably clear up your other question.

Our gazes collide and my heart folds in on itself. No one has ever looked at me like this, with so much caged worry and fear. And for the first time, it's not fear of me. It's fear for me.

It’s a competition, Butcher,” she says as she reaches the corner of the hotel. She doesn’t even look over her shoulder as she gives me the finger and leaves me with two parting words: “Get fucked.

close my eyes. We shift in our embrace, moving together like two dark creatures intertwined, flowing with the current of the world around us. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “Just home with you.

I close my eyes. We shift in our embrace, moving together like two dark creatures intertwined, flowing with the current of the world around us. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “Just home with you.

I’ve got places to be, so I guess we have to cut this short, if you’ll excuse the pun,” I say before I drive my blade beneath his ear. Blood cascades over the table in a flood of crimson.  “It’s game night.

Sloane Sutherland, my beautiful Blackbird. From the moment I met you, you changed the course of my life. I can’t remember anything being fun or exciting or new without you. I can’t remember feeling anything but numb until you burst into my world in your smelly little cage of orzo pastas … I can’t envision the future without you in it. And I don’t want to, not ever. So marry me, Sloane, and we’ll go on crazy adventures forever and fuck shit up, and be best friends and do karate in the garage and make love every day and grow old together. Because I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather spend all those moments with than you.

There’s relief knowing I can love and be loved, after years wondering if I was so broken that there was room only for vengeance and loneliness in my heart. And I think I see the release of that burden reflected in Rowan’s eyes too.

Her words echo in my head until my imagination takes me to every dark and terrible possibility. My heart hits every bone on its way down to the floor. All that's left behind is a black space that burns hotter with every hollow beat.

There's relief knowing that I can love and be loved, after years wondering if I was so broken that there was room only for vengeance and loneliness in my heart. And I think I see the release of that burden reflected in Rowan's eyes too.

Sloane,” he says, his eyes soldered to my lips. My name is a whisper of salvation and suffering as he says it again. A thick swallow shifts in the column of Rowan’s throat. “I can’t lose you.” “Then you’d better kiss me,” I whisper back.

Did you just propose on a napkin with a ring you stuffed in a guy's eye hole?" I blink. My mouth opens. Nothing comes out for a moment that feels about as long as an eternity. "You know, it seemed pretty cute in my head, but in hindsight...

When I halt at her side, she looks up at me with a grimace, her nose crinkling, a little spattering of blood dotting her cheek like a crimson echo of her natural freckles. If I could, I would tattoo it right into her skin. Fucking adorable.

An electric charge surrounds us. The aroma of hot blood perfumes the air. Candlelight flickers on the web. Every detail sharpens, as though the universe has narrowed to this single room. And Sloane the goddess of chaos at the heart of it all.

Rowan releases me from his embrace but holds my upper arms in his warm palms. And then lips are pressed to my neck where my pulse surges. My breath catches as the kiss lingers for a moment just long enough to etch itself into my memory for eternity.

You're right about all those worries that are circling around in your head. Maybe all of them are true. But maybe it shouldn't matte, because everyone messes up. We all let each other down once in a while. And sometimes the best things come out of the fire.

Second, and this is the most important part, so listen up, motherfucker.” I raise his trembling body off the asphalt until his ear is next to my lips. “That woman you were watching…?” My fingers tighten around his throat as he desperately nods. “She is mine.

Yeah, I do. I love running my own kitchen. I like the pace. It can be frantic, but I enjoy that. I do well with a bit of chaos. Maybe that’s why I like you,” he says with a wink.  I huff a laugh and roll my eyes. This man. He could make anything look flirtatious.

I just saw a woman walk by with her groceries,” I say. “She does not want to see that. No one does.” “Of course they do. And even if they didn’t, there’s an important detail that you might be missing: I don’t. Fucking. Care. So are you using your safe word?”  “No.

When we’re apart, her absence is an entity. I worry for her. I dream of her. And yesterday, I almost lost her. Killing bound us together, and it’s a compulsion neither of us can live without. This need, and now this game between us, consumes me as much as she does.

He kicked me,” she explains, her touch lingering on the top of her shoulder with her answer to my unvoiced question. “My shoulder hit the edge of the cage when I fell in.”  My hands fold into tight fists beneath the table as white-hot rage burns in my veins. “Fucker.

bark a laugh and roll my eyes. “You’re the worst. “You’ll love me someday.” One of my steps falters. Today is that day. Maybe yesterday too. And the day before that. Maybe for a while, in fact. I can’t tell exactly when it started, but I don’t think it will ever stop.

Don’t be. Wouldn’t have wound up here if everything hadn’t happened the way it did,” I say. I fold a lock of her hair behind her ear so I can see her freckles. “I have no regrets about where I am.”    And there it is. That blush. A pink so addictive that it haunts me.

Sloane is calculating, methodical. She waits and weaves a web and nets her prey. And while I like to stage a scene from time to time, to display some theatrics, this kill right here? This mess of torn flesh and exposed bone? This is in my soul. I'm fucking feral to the core.

He knows my darkest secrets. I know his. We can be monsters, and maybe we don’t deserve the same things that other people do. Happiness. Affection. Love. But I can’t seem to stop the way I feel when I look at every facet of Rowan, from his brightest light to his deepest, most dangerous dark.

Let’s say you manage to claw your way into the friend zone, and then by some fucking miracle you get yourself beyond that and into the spider lady’s good graces without losing an eye, how would you like me to refer to her?” “I don’t know, asshole. How about Queen. Or, Your Highness. Fuck off.

She's everywhere, in every drop of my blood, in every spark of thought, and I want to fucking destroy her for it. To shatter her just like she's broken me. Because she brings me to my fucking knees. I want to ruin her so that she's mine, my beautiful disaster. My wild creature. My goddess of chaos.

Be right back, Blackbird.”  He folds a hand around my nape and presses his lips to mine in a final, quick kiss, and then he lets go to retrieve his ax from the floor.  “What are you doing?” I hiss.  Rowan rests the handle of the ax against his shoulder and huffs before giving me a wink. “Getting revenge for hurting my girl, of course.

I’m sorry you and your brothers went through that. But I’m happy for you that your art survived.” “And I’m sorry you don’t enjoy your art anymore.” “Me too. But thank you for teaching me yours. I may have only grated a baby’s head’s worth of cheese, but…” she pauses to take a deep breath, as though mustering up courage, “I’m having fun.

My mouth goes bone dry.  “Are you going on a date?” I ask as we turn a corner and head for the wide stairway that leads to the lobby.  Sloane sighs. “I wouldn’t call it a date, per se...”  “Then where are you going? You know, for like…safety purposes and whatnot…” Sloane snorts. “You think I need your protection, pretty boy?”  No. But also yes.

I was scared when we started, afraid that I was making a huge mistake. But finding someone who could understand me for all the shattered pieces beneath the mask? I needed that. Before you came along, something was missing. You made it safe to feel seen. Safe to play on our terms. Safe to have fun, even though our fun might not be everyone's idea of a good time.

You’re probably going to be annoyingly good at this, aren’t you,” I say as his right hand slides across my hip, his left holding my right hand aloft, his grip warm and steady. Rowan grins down at me and begins to lead us in movement. Nothing fancy, nothing showy. Just synchronicity, like we fit to one another, to the music. “And you’ll still be better at it than me, won’t you.

Did David beg you to stop when you decided to play Lobotomy Barbie with his face? I bet he pleaded with you, and you loved the sound. But the funny thing is, Mr. Carmichael, you and I have something in common. I’ll tell you a little secret,” she says. A devastatingly beautiful smile creeps across her lips as she leans close to his ear. “I love the sound when my victims beg too.

He knows my darkest secrets. I know his. We can be monsters, and maybe we don't deserve the same things that other people do. Happiness. Affection. Love. But I can't seem to stop the way I feel when i look at every facet of Rowan, from his brightest light to his deepest, most dangerous dark. Maybe I don't deserve it for the things I've done. But I want it. I want more with him than what I've got.

I planned to take him the year before you got him, but he up and moved before I had the chance. Took me a few months to find him again. Then, lo and behold, bits of his body were strung up in fishing line with his eyeballs gouged out.” Sloane huffs, but I can see the spark that flashes in her tired eyes. She sits a little straighter, wiggling in her seat. “I didn’t gouge them out, Butcher. I plucked them. Delicately. Like a lady.

Sloane,” he says, his eyes soldered to my lips. My name is a whisper of salvation and suffering as he says it again. A thick swallow catches in Rowan’s throat. “I can’t lose you.” “Then you’d better kiss me,” I whisper back. Rowan meets my eyes. His hands warm my cheeks. We’re just a breath of space away from one another, and I know everything will change once his lips touch mine. And it’s true. Everything transforms with a kiss.

his gaze raking from my toes to my eyes with a look that sets me on fire, and he knows it. “Evening, Blackbird,” he says as he pushes off the side of the bike. “Butcher.” Rowan draws to a halt in front of me as I cross my arms and cock a hip. “That’s a pretty dress. Someone help pick that out for you? Whoever they are, they clearly have impeccable taste.” “Great taste. Absolutely zero boundaries.” He grins. “I’m so happy we’re on the same page.

We sample the dishes we create together and Rowan presses the gold star from his cheek to the top of a fresh page in a stained, dog-eared notebook where he jots down ideas and feedback on everything we make. And then he declares that it’s time for dessert, the course where he needs the most help. When I try to protest that I’m full, he laughs me off. “I know you can take more,” he says with a smirk, then strides off in the direction of the fridge.

Sometimes, it feels like having a wild thing in my grasp when she's with me. She's just like her nickname, ready to take off with the first gust of wind. I've never wanted to earn trust before Sloane. I've never cared about keeping it on a personal level, not for anyone but my brothers. And suddenly, Sloane's trust is one of the most important things in the world to me. I know if I lose it, I'll never get it back. And that scares the shit out of me.

she sighs and turns to face me. “He’s not very tough, this one. This is the fifth time he’s passed out on me.” “To be fair, you did gouge out—” “Pluck, Rowan. I plucked his eyes out.” “You did pluck out his eyes. Though I dunno, Blackbird … that eye hole on the left looks a little gouge-y.” She leans toward Thorsten with a scowl, scrutinizing the empty eye sockets as I bite down on a grin. “His left? Or my left?” “His left.” “Fuck off, it does not look gouge-y,” she says. Her doubt turns into a scowl as she looks back over her shoulder and catches the amusement in my eyes. “Dick.