"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN

(Book #1 of Sinners of the Dark) He had a habit of dragging darkness just about everywhere he went. Darkness wrapped in Armani. His personality colder than a block of ice. She was loud, carefree and tainted around the edges. I played by the rules. I did what was asked of me. Until I met the one person that could destroy everything I had worked for. I hated him since our first encounter, and now I was forced to tolerate him. He was called gadyuka in Russia, but he was known as the Sin in the deep underground of New York. Handsome face filled with violence, commanding, gorgeous and deadly. A killer, a thief, a sociopath, and feared by all. A made man. He came dressed in all black. Gold cuff links. Tattoos burned into his skin. He had the ability to pin me to the ground with a single glare and made me feel things I didn't want to. He was absolutely unhinged. Frightening. Everything wrong and everything right. And he held the key to my cage in his palm. And before he crushed the key; I was going to fuck with the serpent, and then I was going to hunt him. He just didn't know it yet. - preview - "I'll fucking ruin your life, Elena. Corrupt every goddamn part of your body, and soul. And when I'm done with you, you'll get on your knees and thank me." His low voice snarled. Desperate. He backed me into a wall. He grabbed me by the throat, but didn't choke me. Just kissed me so deep I forgot whose air I was breathing. "I'm not fucking done with you, Elena. And if it is up to me, I'm not done fucking you either."