His Halo is a Lie
I hurried through the penthouse until I found him on the balcony again, his body tense, his fists clenched against the railing.
“Saint,” I whispered.
He didn’t turn.
“Talk to me,” I pleaded.
Finally, he looked back at me, his eyes haunted. “Sometimes I still want it. The power. The fear. The fire. It’s like a hunger I can’t starve.”
My chest ached. I stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “Then feed something else. Feed love. Feed me.”
He stared at me, his chest rising and falling too fast. Slowly, he let my hand close over his.
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