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life was what life was, and sometimes survival meant having to adjust one’s expectations.
What’s wrong with your foot?” Gemma froze. The voice was low and hoarse, the words measured and pronounced with a liquid, flowing inflection.
His voice is incredibly sexy in my head
“No. Only one beats when I’m at rest. Two are for everyday things, the most common. Three is when you recuperate after injury or play sports, or are… over-excited. All four are for battle mode. Survival. Extreme agitation.”
“But it can’t last.” Gemma stomped her foot, feeling contrary and desperate for things to be different. “There’s no future for you and me. Us.” His firm mouth softened, and the curved eyebrows rose above his large eyes. “Why do you always say words that make no sense?” he chided gently. “What future is there except you and me? Us?”
My favorite thing about Simon is how self-assured and matter of fact he is about everything.
“You have to try harder. Please, Gemma. Do it for me. Just this one time. That’s all I’m asking. Save my world, open this goddamn door!”
“I can’t walk.” He adjusted his hold on her body. “You don’t have to. I’ve got it from here.”
Let me put it another way. I don’t want you to have to survive. Not without me.”
“Would you kill me if you had to?” “You?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I kill for you.”
I wish there was more time spent on resolving the fact that they just didn't see eye to eye on the subject of taking lives. Room for a sequel?
“At the time when I lost control of my mind, when I had no more fight left in me, and my only hope was to die, you walked into my cell and said, Hello, Simon.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I am Simon.”
I both love and hated this ending. It was so abrupt, but I love this line on its own.
