Mastering the Flames (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer, #4)

by S.J. Himes

He didn’t feel like himself. A part of him figured that who he was no longer existed.

Truths too painful to face threatened to ruin his meager calm.

“Can’t I have a mental crisis without you getting impatient?”

He wanted to be himself. If only he knew who that was.

Rory gave Eroch a huge nugget of gold in thanks, and Eroch has it stashed in Angel’s bathroom on a stack of towels in the corner behind the toilet.”

“Angel hasn’t been rectifying your education—he’s been teaching you to be Angel 2.0. Bastard.”

Beacon Hill was used to Angel being a bit extra, but an elegant, suited vampire walking a hellhound around the one-hundred-and-five acres of their little slice of Boston was more than the locals were accustomed to seeing.

do know I don’t want to be who I’ve been. It feels like I’m on a path I never should have tread. A path belonging to someone else. I’ve been living a life never meant for me, and who I should have been is still waiting for me.”

“It isn’t denial to wish for a better life, to be better. Maybe if I try hard enough, I can become who I feel like I should have been all along.”

Luckily he’d been up for a while already, and Eroch didn’t wake him with his demands to set his breakfast on fire.

“I’m okay,” Isaac replied, voice rough. He sighed, exasperated with himself. “No, actually, I’m not okay.” “What can I do?” Daniel asked gently. Isaac shook his head. “Just be you.”

pain underneath everything like a bruise that had yet to reach the surface of his skin.

When bored, the dragon was more destructive than a legion of toddlers.

Who you were is at odds with who you’re becoming. Your old life doesn’t fit. Of course, it feels odd.”

Do not assign yourself guilt over a wrongdoing you did not commit. It is my shame to bear, and mine alone.”

the image of the tiny green dragon curled around his golden nugget hidden behind the toilet in Angel’s bathroom. His brother needed to order a whole new set of bath towels since Eroch used most of them to build his hoard, and they were covered in ash and burned in several places.

“Puns have always been horrible, no matter the language.” Constans frowned as if recalling something unpleasant. “They are a form of torture in many cultures.”

Eroch churred sadly and ducked his head in his wings, trying to hide.

I have so much trouble figuring myself out, that trying to figure out other people is nearly impossible.

“But what I need right now is to figure out who I am.

That even in recovery he was a failure and a liar, and those people in his life he valued would see the truth soon and disappear. He was too much trouble. He knew his thoughts weren’t rational, but the stress and adrenaline crash and the leftover fear were pulling him apart.

A part of him was a bit annoyed at the randomness of his panic attacks, but he was pleasantly surprised that they were getting easier to avert.

“You’re getting a bell, just like a housecat. A cute one, sky blue, with little plastic rhinestones on it and a tag that says PITA.” A loud burst of laughter that was quickly stifled came from down the hall in the direction of the vault. Constans arched a brow imperiously, ignoring his laughing Elder.

falling apart isn’t failing—falling apart can be the fastest way to heal what ails you.

You have people in your corner who love you, and if you let them, they can help you carry the pieces of your broken heart until you can put it back together.”

It’s perfectly acceptable to be making choices right now that protect your mental health. You need to learn the difference between being in denial and avoiding situations that are going to cause more harm than good.”

“I’m broken. I don’t know who I am. Changes freak me out, I can barely function without a panic attack and I’m going to be in therapy for years, maybe even my whole life.

I carry more guilt than anyone should be able to survive. Sometimes I don’t think I’m sane. Can you love me, even though there are so many pieces of me, and none of the pieces fit together anymore?”

I love the jagged edges of your heart, and the stalwart and kind soul under the scars. None of that scares me, and none of your troubles are enough to make me regret loving you.