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"You look like pure sin," he whispers, drinking me in slowly. "And I've always loved sinning, darling."
"You clearly intend to continue stalking me." "For the rest of this life and into the Beyond, yes."
“Thu mi le d’chal lei fhuil, ima sangfluir," he murmurs. Which is fae for, You drive me mad with your beauty, my blood blossom.
And since I'm dangerously close to getting sidetracked by how unfairly gorgeous they are, I choose to be impish. "Nach, ás mo esio chial na'mi cobhair," I reply smoothly in fae. No, you are mad enough without my help.
"Eireach chial, thiga ais thu'ganh," I murmur in fae. Come back to me, handsome lunatic.
"W—what the f—fuck are you?" he sobs, too weak to push me off of him as his eyes flutter and roll helplessly. "I'm what happens when the Undead experiment on the living."
There never has been and never will be anyone but you for me. Twisted souls like ours can't help belonging together, will of the gods be damned. Quintet or not, bound or not, I was always going to be yours, darling. Wherever you rest your pretty head, keep this under your pillow until I return to you. And please dream of me, for if I could dream, it would always be of you.
"Here's my own warning, Maven. You're my keeper. My mate. You could tell me to swallow a fucking grenade, and I'd do it. But the one thing you will never tell me again is that I shouldn't want you. You don't get a say over that. You're all I want, and that's not changing, so learn to fucking deal with it."
"You could have died," she mutters. "I should have killed him slower." "Aww. You do care," I grin. Maven's gaze arrests me. "More than you know. Now apologize for letting yourself get hurt like that." My heart starts pounding. I swallow and nod like a good boy because that's what I'll always be for her. "I'm really sorry, baby."
"The gods are cruel, but I can't resist anymore. So fuck it all. You're stuck with me until the tragic end."
"Be a good boy and lick this pussy until I come on your face."
I don't know what to do with a feeling like this. But I do know that I'm going to make her my muse. I want her ingrained in my subconscious just as deeply as I plan to be permanently woven into hers.
What if I end up being the death of her?" "Then I'll shred your psyche and piece it back together over and over until we both die. Sleep tight."
Honestly, the idea of love puts me on edge. It's too vague, too soft. It brings to mind flowery nonsense, empty promises, sweet nothings, and other useless bullshit. Obsession, on the other hand? That's dark and twisted. It's real. I'm much more comfortable getting unhealthily obsessed or borderline manic over someone else. Anything but falling for them. That sounds awful.
This camaraderie is like a disease. I must be more careful, or we'll all be braiding one another's hair and getting matching tattoos. I shudder at the thought.
