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“Will you please stop calling me ‘woman’ like it’s a bad word? I hate that!” His piercing gaze on mine, he replies softly, “I’ve never said it like it’s a bad word. It’s the most beautiful word in the language.”
Not killing yourself wasn’t an act of cowardice. It was an act of courage. It takes so much more bravery to keep living when you’re in pain than it does to give up.”
“I’ll marry you. But if you decide to kill me, wait until tomorrow.” She arches a brow. “Because?” “Because I need to feel those sharp claws of yours dig into my back at least once before I die.”
The priest sighs, shaking his head. “Very well. Do you, Homer, take this woman—” “I do.” “Hold your horses, lad,” the priest mutters. “This isn’t a bloody race.” He exhales hard and starts again. “Do you, Homer—” “I do.” “—take this woman, Reyna—” “I do.”
I turn my head and blink at the riotous crowd, unable to understand what’s happening because my brain is still floating somewhere in outer space.
Surfing the cosmos!
“Viper. My lovely, lethal wife. You’re fucking perfect, inside and out. Don’t ever worry about disappointing me. You couldn’t. Even when you’re homicidal or hurling insults, you take my breath away.”
Later on, I’ll look back and realize this is the exact moment I fell in love with her.
“Fucking hell, you’re gorgeous. My sweet girl. I’d kill an army for you. I’d burn down empires and lay all their gold at your feet.”
“I guess I like that they’re written for women. The whole world is made to please the male gaze, but romance novels only care about what we want. What we need. They’re specifically for our pleasure. Some of the stories are great escapist fantasies.”
“I think you’re a brilliant golden sun in a sky that’s only ever known the black and starless night.”
“You’re a privilege I don’t deserve, but I’m going to spend the rest of both our lives trying to be worthy of you.”
