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I thought I was really doing something just washing my hair last night. But it’s a lot more humid here than in Kyiv, and my curls are forming rebellious twists that are halfway between a dreadlock and something Medusa would have growing all over her head.
This is the realest thing I've read
“Or maybe I just couldn’t stand the thought of pretending to understand Beowulf yet again.”
You're not alone😭😭😭
“Dude! How am I the responsible one here?”
“There’s two kinds of men in the world,” she says. “The kind who want to hurt you . . . and the kind who want to be persuaded by you.”
The Spy aka Ares Cirillo
WAIT ARE YOU FR???? AAAAAAAHHHHH
I’ve spent three years pretending to be Ares—calm, kind, patient. Humble.
Oh???
Hedeon Gray has been digging for clues about his biological parents. I could tell him everything he wants to know. Instead I have to pretend to be his friend, his confidante, while secretly blocking him from ever discovering the truth—yet another task assigned to me that I loathe.
I believe my dad, not some random fucking idiot who thinks hoop earrings are a fashion statement.
“Women are always more than they seem.”
I can’t be attracted to her. That’s fucking insane. I haven’t been attracted to anyone for a long time. Every time I saw a beautiful girl at Kingmakers, I stuffed that emotion deep down inside me. Lying to my friends is hard enough. I knew I couldn’t possibly keep up the facade in a romantic relationship.
I feel like an animal that wants to bite and claw and fuck. I want to chase her down, throw her against those rocks, and mount her.
Oh!
It’s a deal with the devil, and the devil always takes his due.
“It’s one thing to bend a man, another to break him. You sow nothing but the seeds of your own demise when you make bitter enemies for yourself. That is the kind of act that demands revenge.”
“The truth is always messy,”
“That’s why legends are lies. In real life, there’s no perfect narrative where the good guys and the bad guys all get what they deserve, and everything works out in the end . . .”
I’m not sorry when Hedeon Markov interrupts us, accompanied by his son Kristoff, his daughter Evalina, and her fiancé Donovan Dryagin. The Markovs are one of the only families who supported me during my bloody battle with my rival Remizov. The Markovs’ loyalty will not be forgotten—they will always have a place at my table.
“Did you see Evalina Markov’s face?”
“She had melasma—darkening of the pigment in the skin.”
“Usually that happens from pregnancy,”
Oh shit
“Have you ever tried cutting it?”
“Yes.”
“It broke the sc...
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it. I don’t want you restrained, Nix—I want you wild and free and untamed. I want you to have everything you ever desired, and I want to watch you enjoy it . . .”
What my mother means is, if Marko Moroz puts a bullet in my father’s head, she’ll do the same to his daughter.
“I’m not Ares. My name is Rafe Petrov. My father is Ivan Petrov. He’s been imprisoned for three and a half years. Tomorrow, I finally bring him home.”
Predators have a sense for traps.
“I want you,” I say to her. “I want your wildness. I want your passion. I want you to love me the way you love the wind and the water and the outdoors. I want you to be untamable, except by me. I want you to be my wife.”
“The truth is always the best story.”
“Our fathers shape us,” Sloane said, zipping her case. “But it’s our husbands who determine what we truly become. And us them. A couple is the sum of both of you together—as strong as you are together. As happy as you are together.”
There are crossroads in life where you can either choose the cold truth you see in front of you, or you can choose to chase the impossible dream. It’s only by believing in that dream, and pursuing it, that you can turn it into a living, breathing reality. You must chase the dream to live the dream. Otherwise, it will only ever be an ephemeral fantasy in your mind.
