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“None of us are powerless. Choice is the most powerful thing in this world. Everyone has a choice.”
“Woman.”
He pauses here. “You.”
If he’s evil, then am I in danger of falling for the devil, or am I the devil herself?
A low groan vibrates from deep within him. “I can feel you through the flimsy layer of cloth, London. You’re wet.”
My own design of love may be a twisted creature, but that creature is hungry and demands to be fed.
“You’re mine, London. We can dance this violent dance until we bleed each other dry, or we can surrender. Your choice. But I will have you.”
“I do, Your Honor. I proclaim that Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
“Not happening, doc. You’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
“See you in hell, baby.”
Solitude reveals who we are. Isolation is not loneliness; it’s the absence of noise and distraction. It forces you to acknowledge your worth. If you must surround yourself with people, you invite distractions from the one person deserving of your time: you.
“Do we love each other, or are we merely crazy for each other? I know I’m crazy—maddeningly crazy for you. Obsession is a far more evocative emotion than love.”
“We weren’t born the day we took our first breath. We were born the moment we stole it.”
