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Temper your expectations of this world. But do not dampen your fire.
He held out a finger with each word. “Beautiful. Mysterious. Dangerous. And an obvious, clear-as-the-fucking-moon mistake.”
“Just his type. Beautiful trouble.”
“To think I let such a dangerous creature sleep beside me every night.”
“It matters,” he murmured. Two words that could mean nothing—should mean nothing. It felt like they meant everything.
“Because you make me ravenous.”
“Death is what happens when you stand still,” I said. “Don’t stand still. Not for anything.”
Maybe it just meant that anger was the antidote to fear.
