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She was never theirs anyway. Not really. From the moment the songbird tried to appeal to the serpent, she was mine.
“So, who are you, little bird?” A rush of something dangerous hummed in my bones. “Yours, I suppose. For a little while.” My shadow made a noise, a sound deep and throaty like a growl. He leaned his masked face near mine; the heat in his strange eyes burned in desire. “Speak more words like that, and I will need to keep you longer than a little while.”
“Careful with your threats of my untimely death, love, or you might end up stealing my heart.”
You think your peace was won with gentle morals? We all have a darkness within us, and desperation to survive can reveal the cruelest pieces.”
“Hate me all you want, but don’t regret me. Promise me that.”
“Did I say you were weak?” he snapped. “You are not weak because of fears, but I will do what I can to help you wade between the fears that are plausible and the ones that are the mind trying to paralyze you.”
“Don’t negate the pain of your experience.” His tone was as sharp as broken glass. Angry, but not at me, more for me. “I only mean, it must’ve been much worse to fight in those battles.” “I was there, true,” he said, “but it was not the same for me. While that was your first experience with gruesome pain, I was born into brutality. My earliest memories are of blood and death.”
If ever it is a choice between your life or another’s, strangle them with thorns.
