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He’s too busy invading my space, staring at me in a way that makes my toes actually curl. His eyes are blazing white until spots of pink start to flutter through them, and my mouth is hanging open in dumbfounded shock. I can’t get past his pink-and-white eyes ringed in heavy black lashes, looking like fireworks. Staring into them directly is like staring at the sun during an eclipse. I feel . . . woozy.
I am just a simple human, with deep insecurities underpinned by a whole heap of anxieties, who happens to be good—really good—at marketing. I’m not meant for supernatural shit.
if I ever even see him in light-gray anything ever again, there’s a strong chance I’ll simply perish.
I understand embarrassment. I understand its sick, crushing weight, and I feel it bleeding from his skin like a fatal wound, and I slip and slide around in it. I’m going to drown in it.
I shake my head again and again, answering a question he hasn’t asked me. “You hurt?” he says the same time that I blurt, “You look good.” “What?” “What?” Realizing what I just said, I quickly blurt out, “I mean you look healthy. No. Fit. I mean . . . you don’t look injured even though . . .” I point lamely at the missing wall. “The battle . . .” My voice trails off.
There are only two truths I’m sure of in this moment: I’m stupid obsessed with Vanessa fucking Theriot, and I’m absolutely going to kill something.
I need to get my shit together. But I can’t. Because—and see exhibits A and B—I’m obsessed with Vanessa fucking Theriot, and because she’s literally shaking next to me, I’m going to kill something. Everything.
They call me hero now, but I’m a bad fucking dude. I want to kidnap her. If she hadn’t agreed to let me move in with her, I might have had to.
Fuck this, maybe I should just kidnap her, I think, rubbing my jaw.
Her competence makes me wanna perform hara-kiri because I know I’m not worthy and then shove my organs back into the slit of my stomach just to perform the ritual all over again knowing that I’m the reason she’s in this position. I forced her to be here.
I’ve been a dick. And she’s been a clumsy, perfect little thing.
She says, “Thank you, Roland.” I feel the fabric of my being shift. And that’s it. It’s decided. She’s mine.
and I know that if I stay here another second, she’s going to make a villain out of me.
Nessa’s a good fucking girl and smarter than the lot of you combined. She got here on her brains, not on her back, and if any of you ever suggest anything like that again ever, I’ll tear out your spines.
It didn’t matter that the Wyvern had shown up unshaven in sweatpants with dirty hair or that I’d spent two hours getting ready that morning. I was still too short, too tall, too skinny, too fat, too uptight, too, too, too . . . ugly . . . for him.
And then she refocuses on my eyes, gaze flitting between them. I wonder what color they are now. My guess is white. My eyes had never changed to that color before we met.
He was an asshole. A control freak. A jerk. But I’m not sure I was any better.
That itchy spot I felt when she breathed on me, trusting and needing me, hurts. I can’t stay here.
But now, standing here shaky as I am, I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to go to a generic hotel either. “Take me to my girl. Anybody asks, tell them I did this for her.”
And I no longer remember that we’re in a fight when his lips alight on mine so, so softly. They’re warm and dry and full beyond belief. He tastes like he smells, like a bonfire.
I’ll have to check myself into a mental hospital because my therapist doesn’t get paid enough to handle the mess that I am, and I definitely can’t take this to group.
why is this so goddamn relatable tho 😂
and smiles her shy little smile that makes me want to level cities for her and tear out Mani’s throat.
“How many dinners until I get to marry you?” She balks. “That’s not how it works.”
“And you want to know what made it all feel worth it in the end?” Vanessa blushes, like she knows what I’m gonna say before I say it. “What?” “The way you looked at me when I knocked on your door. Like I was the most impressive thing you’d ever seen.” “You kind of are.”
“And what do I care if you can’t talk to people? You can talk to me. In fact, it’s better you can’t talk to people, because anytime anybody talks to you, I wanna kill ’em.”
And then she releases a terrible sound. A sob. She may be tougher than old leather to have been through what she’s been through and come out on the other side of it sweeter than sin, but she’s still so fucking tender. Her tears tear straight through me. I’m standing, but when she sobs again, I stagger. I only miss that first step though, because in the next beat, I’m at the door. “Where are you?”
“Stop, baby. Hold up. Don’t hurt yourself. Gonna take you to the doctor. I just need to make sure it’s safe to move you.” “It’s safe. It’s not a big deal.” “The fuck it isn’t,” I grunt, covering my mouth again to keep myself from saying anything else stupid.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you.” “Friendship goes both ways, Vanessa, and you were there when I needed you most. I love ya.” She winks, stands up, and offers me her hand. “I love you too,”
Her skin is so damn smooth. I don’t know how she got so smooth. Little scars, stretch marks, a little jiggle in her ass and below her belly button. Full tits. All of it so damn . . . smooth.
She’s actually taking this so easily, I worry a little that there’s something deranged about her, but I damn sure am not gonna suggest she fix it. She’s mine. And she’s perfect.
“You’re never going to die,” I growl, anger causing the tips of my horns to blaze bright with flame. She releases their base on a giggle. I smile in return, watching the light from my horns as it turns the fan of her hair from medium brown to reddish hues. “I’d light the world ablaze first.”
