More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
The disappointment is plastered all over both their faces every time they see me with Blaine. They don’t know why I do what I do. They’ve got no idea, but it’s better that way.
Damaged souls have their own beauty. A dark, terrifying beauty. The same type of beauty I recognize in Ronan.
My heart flat lined long ago. Keeping myself locked in this void is easy. And yet the despair seeps in all too often.
The man who shares my secret. The man who holds my life in the palm of his hands. Sometimes, I think I could love him. But most of the time, I just hate him. For making me weak. For tempting me to stay. For wondering when he’ll finally make good and kill me too. I don’t know how it’s possible to have feelings that
Oh, I love that madness. Because madness is better than nothingness. Madness means he isn’t completely immune to feelings. Madness means it isn’t apathy he feels when he has to look upon me. Fucking asshole.
know who it’d be to hunt me down. I don’t want him to be the one to kill me. I could deal if it was anyone else. But not him.
In the two years since my training began, I’ve come to know that life is simply trading one pain for another.
Donovan is already strapped to the steel table I use for occasions such as these. His eyes are black, spewing venom at me, but he can’t manage a word with the cloth stuffed in his mouth. That’s the way I prefer it. I’ve got no notions to hear any more out of him.
Outwardly, I’m calm. Always calm. There’s no need to put on a show. I will not allow him to see how deeply he has affected me. But tonight Donovan will feel the gravity of my long festered rage. Tonight, I will do what I’ve yearned to since I discovered this prick touched Sasha.
“For a lad who likes to hurt women, ye sure do scream a bit,” I note.
“Does it interest ye to know, Donny, that before you or Blaine ever laid a hand on her, she was mine?”
Ending a life is generally not something I do without consideration. Killing is personal, and so the act itself should also be.
They are so pure and gentle. Filled with a goodness that I’ll never know. Everything about her is like that.
only know that touching her again would be like dousing the fire with gasoline in hopes of calming it.
want to be what she needs. What she wants. But I’m not. Someone else will. Someone who I may very well end up killing too.
My dark prince. The reaper. The man who spilled blood for me without pause. For that reason alone he’ll always be on a pedestal that no other can reach. He’ll always be the memory I revisit in my darkest of times.
used to be one of those people who couldn’t understand how women could get themselves into a relationship like this. Or how they would stay. But it isn’t that simple. It’s never been simple with Blaine.
And I know it’s so wrong. My boyfriend is lying dead on the other side of the room. Where Ronan just killed him.
this is fucked gal!
He looks at me, but doesn’t say a word. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For looking out for me.”
How do you tell someone you love so much goodbye?
“Do ye believe it would be the end of the world if you just talked to her, Fitz?” “And what exactly would I have to say?” I reply. “The truth. She could understand it if you gave her a chance to.” “I still don’t understand it myself,” I tell
“Talk to me,” I insist. “Tell me what’s wrong.” I don’t actually expect him to answer. He never answers me. So this time when he does, it shocks the ever living hell out of me. “You didn’t tell me,” he says. His voice is accusing, tinged with hurt and anger. “I didn’t tell you what?” “About Donovan.”
“I knew what the consequences would be if you killed him,” I say. “And I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let anything happen to you because of me. Because of what you did for me.”
Ronan feels it too. This explosive link between us. All I have to do is enter his orbit, and I’m a slave to his power. I suspect that’s why he’s always avoiding me. He doesn’t want to give in to the same force.
“You have kind hands,” he murmurs.
Thinking freely does not come naturally to him.
“I think about ye all the time.”
“Oh I know,” she says condescendingly. “I know all about your sacrifices, Sash. Spreading your legs and taking your clothes off up on stage. Is that how you sheltered me?” There have been moments in my life when I felt like nothing. Thought I was nothing. But to have my own sister say it, my own flesh and blood… it feels like I’ve just been knifed in the stomach.
“I’m right here,” I tell him. “Why do you need the earring when you have me?”
anything he’s trying to sell you, I feel sorry that he’s wasting
