Vincent Cross
THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING They called him a monster. A man who enjoyed pain and fear. He didn't live in the shadows; he was the shadow. Cold, calculating, and completely dangerous. He didn't ask me to love him. He took me. He locked me away in his world of darkness, telling me that I was his to break, his to mold, his to ruin. "You are mine," he whispered, tracing a knife along my skin. "And I don't share. If you try to leave, I will break you. If you look at someone else, I will kill them right in front of your eyes." Everyone told me he was evil. Everyone told me he would be the death of me. But they didn't understand. I liked the danger. I liked being his. And I knew... that even if he destroyed me, I would never want to escape.
About Vincent Cross
THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING They called him a monster. A man who enjoyed pain and fear. He didn't live in the shadows; he was the shadow. Cold, calculating, and completely dangerous. He didn't ask me to love him. He took me. He locked me away in his world of darkness, telling me that I was his to break, his to mold, his to ruin. "You are mine,...Read more