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“I think you care very little,” she goes on, “because you think that keeps you safe. If you care for very little, you have very little to lose.” A knot forms between my shoulder blades, making me shift again. “But you know what?” Smee says. “Caring for so little means that when you actually do care, losing it has a much higher cost.”
I’m no artist, but I’m an expert at violence and I will paint a fucking masterpiece with your blood.”
Destroying something can feel good, Smee. I promise you that.”
“But just so we’re all clear, I think this is a stupid fucking idea and if the twins want to fly, I’m happy to help. I’ll drop-kick you off the edge of Marooner’s Rock. You’ll really fly then.”
I am forever changed by him. I love him.
“I can feel it,” he says, a soft utterance, a quiet secret. “Feel what?” “Your love,” he says. “In my chest.” He kisses my cheek, lingering close. “I can feel your love like a million golden stars in the endless abyss that is me.”
“Promise me you will always be there.” He tilts me up to him and kisses me gently. “I promise, Win.”
Darling bends forward, her mouth at my ear. “I’ll let you tie me up later.” “Excuse me. ‘Let me?’” I shake my head. “If I want to tie you up, Darling, I’ll tie you up and you’ll take it like a good girl.”
Apparently us Darlings have a thing for morally grey assholes with rock-hard abs and cunning good looks.
She’s the brightest shining light in the dark. The second star on the right.
There is no way to measure love, but if there were, I know I would be full.
I look around the room at the four men before me, on their knees. I love them, each of them, in my own way and they love me in turn. My vicious men. All of them, mine.
