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He was cute and funny and always happy enough to spend time with her, but he was oblivious in the way that so many guys were: He was willing to put in the effort, but only if she told him precisely what that effort entailed.
Ugghh...why are men like this?!? Lol
fine-for-now kind of guy like Jake.
Lol
Pulling out her phone, she typed the simple ending: I don’t think this is working. We have fun together, but I think friends-only is the right vibe for us. She waited, staring at her phone, and in only a few seconds, her text was decorated with the blandest of reactions: a thumbs-up.
Omg smh
Brigan couldn’t remember a lover who hadn’t mindlessly devoured whatever he gave them and then greedily demanded more. He reeled in understanding when it hit him, for it had been so long: This was what real desire looked like.
Brigan almost felt guilty for feeding, for siphoning the honeyed radiance from her skin, as if tonight wasn’t about that, but how was he meant to resist? He was accustomed to seeing desire as a pale glow—shimmering cream, the occasional soft yellow—but Catalina’s pleasure was unlike anything he’d ever seen, emanating from her in pulsing, golden waves. For so long, it had seemed only a cruel joke that he was cursed to feed off the joy and pleasure of humans when he couldn’t find joy and pleasure himself, but this—this was bliss.
Brigan bent, collecting her clothes for her and wordlessly helping her back into them.
How sweet
Brigan bent, resting his lips over hers for a long, soft beat, but when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Had she hallucinated everything? Had anyone actually been in here with her? Terrified for a beat that she’d either lost her mind or had somehow just had sex with a fucking ghost,
Lol
“And I instructed your body to be wet for me so that I could take you easily.” Cat felt herself go completely still as heat engulfed her skin. “Ah,” he murmured, his heated gaze sweeping over her face, and a hum filled her head, her body felt warm and liquid. “That’s my sweet lamb.”
“I am a Fallen,” he said, and lifted the scotch to his lips, letting the heat of the liquid coat them. “I am one of a handful like this.” 41 “Fallen like an angel?” she asked very, very quietly. “I suppose.” Brigan nodded slowly, carefully,
“I’m doomed to walk the earth, alone and immortal, until my beloved finds me and rescues me.”
Her voice was soft, teasing but not mocking: “And how will your beloved rescue you?” “Apparently, she will simply see me,” he said, staring into his glass. “I see you.” He laughed sadly at this, not able to correct her that it meant something very specific. “What did you do to make her curse you?” “I slaughtered a corrupt king’s family.” It had been so long since he’d said this aloud; the words felt stiff and sharp, cutting his tongue as he spoke them.
In shadows draped with feathers night, A fallen soul awaits the light. Eternal dusk, your heart’s refrain, Break this spell, remove your pain. Immortal chains, your tethered plea, Only when found, will you be free.
You shall see her again, a fortune teller had assured him after he’d dropped five stolen coins into her palm, months after Annora’s murder and Brigan’s subsequent purgatory, when he crawled, disoriented and confused, feeling like he might go out of his head trying to interpret the sorceress’s riddle. But it will be many lifetimes before she finds you.
Moving pictures had been invented, and a tiny well of hope had bubbled up inside him.
And he only needed one soul to wonder it aloud, one soul to see him, and the curse would be broken: His heart would shake off the eternal winter and begin to beat, his blood would run hot in his veins. The clock on his life would commence mercifully counting down, the way it was always meant to. He would no longer live forever, but he would never be alone again.
Thunderstruck, mute, he stared down at her and simply nodded, for all around him the world began to melt into color and vibration and sound; her face, which had been beautiful to him from the moment he saw her, was now something else altogether, still beautiful but now irresistible; dear to him in a way that held her tenderly at the very center of each cell in his body. His life, his love, his soul stood before him. 48 Beneath his sternum, Brigan’s heart took a gigantic, thrashing lurch.
Gasp!
“If I’d given you another, what was your final question going to be?” he asked her, his voice hoarse with emotion. Catalina looked up at him, her eyes adoring and concerned. “I was going to ask you whether you could fly.” He could; he could fly and glide and soar and dive, but right in that moment, with his soul and heart returned to him, with Catalina standing before him and their future spreading out ahead like a vibrant, luxurious tapestry, Brigan could only fall to his knees.
Ugh! My heart! <3
