“I am made of rage and pain. I do not want to give you any of that, my kalon.” “I want you, Daios. I don’t know why or how, but I do. Every bit of you. Your anger, your rage, your pain. I want that just as much as I want your attention and your adoration.” Her hand pressed flat against his chest, her palm so warm against his skin. “I am not afraid of you.” “I am.”
