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Shock flooded him, and he was immediately—desperately—curious.
What kind of idiot brought the most beautiful girl to a tawdry, cacophonous party like this and deserted her? If only he knew there were monsters out there, waiting for their turn.
Cat was stunned into silence when he stepped forward into a bit of streetlight slanting in through the window and lifted his mask. She revised her thought that he must be attractive; in fact, she’d never seen a more gorgeous person in her life. His features were severe and aristocratic: thick, dark brows, intense brown eyes, strong cheekbones and jaw, and a mouth she was positive was equally skilled at kissing and mockery. And then he smiled, becoming devastatingly more beautiful. Deep smile lines carved into his cheeks, his eyes lit with mischief, crinkling at the corners. Cat felt her rib
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“You’re beautiful, little lamb. Everyone in that room noticed you.” He smiled. “I’d wager everyone in any room notices you.”
“I followed you in here because you looked lonely. I followed you in here because you’re beautiful, and I like beautiful things.” A pause, and then the rest slipped out of him: “I followed you in here because I’m lonely too.”
Maybe she did know him. In a past life, or in dreams, or in something else that seemed impossible but true at the same time.
He really did dwarf her; her gaze was level with the solid expanse of his chest.
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.
Madness, he thought to himself. This is what madness feels like, to want to exist in a moment that isn’t reality. And what a relief it was to know that he couldn’t fall in love with her, was incapable of it, because if this was a fraction of love, he would never be able to let her out of his sight.
The idea of not seeing him again made her unbearably sad.
my darling.”
“How old are you?” He looked surprised; obviously this wasn’t where he expected her to start. “Twenty-five.” And she’d expected him to be honest. “Yes, but how long have you been twenty-five?” Brigan grinned, saying cheekily, “A while.” A laugh burst out of Cat’s throat. “Is this your way of admitting to me that you’ve read Twilight?”
“I’m doomed to walk the earth, alone and immortal, until my beloved finds me and rescues me.”
Details like how he’d paid for these crimes first by having to watch the murder of his wife, his soul, his beloved. How he’d watched Annora tied to the stake and burned to death.
They talked about everything on the walk. Her childhood, her studies, the car accident she’d been in two years before. Her favorite foods and films and books. His life, which had stretched hundreds of years; the daily reality of it was hard for her to fathom, the immensity of what he’d seen, what he’d witnessed. His current circumstances seemed to her both wonderful and sad—he could afford any luxury but never cared about any of it, unable to share it with anyone.
She pulled back to take in his expression, her wonder immediately crashing into remorse. “I’m sorry! I should have asked. I just didn’t know if they were real.”
AHHHHHH
Beneath his sternum, Brigan’s heart took a gigantic, thrashing lurch. Heat spiraled down his torso, extending into each limb, pulsing hot into each finger. He sucked a deep breath of icy air into his lungs, reveling in the contrast of warmth inside, cold outside.
“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.
AND THAT'S FUCKING IT?????? NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I WANT MOREEEEEEEE
