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I’m a known fugitive who likes to set people on fire. Come away with me so we can have hot sex while the entire city is trying to shoot me in the head. If I get bored, I’ll barbecue you for my amusement. Sure, let me get my shoes.
Makarov was pointing at me. I strained, trying to hear. Something about “should’ve told me.”
“Does Augustine know you’re a Truthseeker?” He’d figured me out.
“This is distracting you, and I need you to function, so let’s fix this. Which part of what happened is upsetting?”
He's very astute and I like that.
but I decided it would be too graphic for you. Would that have been preferable?”
He... cares for her?
my father knew he was terminal and his chances of recovery were nonexistent. It was never about curing the cancer. It was about buying him a little bit more time.
“I’m a product of calculated selective breeding,” Mad Rogan said. “I was conceived because it would be good for my House to have an heir and because my parents’ genes ticked the right set of boxes. You were probably conceived because your parents loved each other.”
“You’re doing what needs to be done,” Mom said and hugged me to her. “Remember the rules: we have to be able to look ourselves in the mirror. Sometimes that means doing terrible things because there is no other choice.
“Nothing. I just like carnations.”
I’m important to you. She insulted and belittled you.
He does care.
there is a possibility that an item which makes your magic stronger does exist.
Somehow the raging Prime and urbane millionaire were one and the same, and it completely made sense, except that the mundane part of him made the violent part even scarier.
She kissed him and as she shared all of her fears and wants, he felt alive. He had shrugged off the cold serenity for her, and the world around him bloomed. He felt like an addict who, after abusing a narcotic for years, somehow found himself sober, wandered through his house, opened the front door, and saw a beautiful spring day.
