More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“You’re not going to walk through life, Amara,” he uttered roughly, each word a vow that cemented itself in her heart. “You’ll dance through it. And I’ll fucking remove anyone who tries to break your rhythm. I promise you.”
she was just a girl and he was just a boy, and somehow, their broken pieces matched.
‘Fate is always weaving its threads, Dante. We just don’t see them until our eyes open.’
“I will kiss you and brand myself upon your heart, Amara,” he told her quietly. “Just make sure you’re ready for me to.”
Oh Dante. Breathless.
“You’re the beat to my heart, Amara,” he whispered against her mouth, pressing his forehead to hers, and something that had been wilted inside Amara unfurled, opening, soaking, blooming in the emotion she could see in his eyes. She was the beat to his heart and he was the beat to hers, both of them pulsing together. Maybe, they were both the same beats. Maybe, theirs was the same heart.
“We’re not a love story. We’re a tragedy in the making. There’s no happy ending for us. I feel that you have a better future ahead of you, and you should take it.”
realizing that there wasn’t much difference between true evil and true love. They snuck up on the vulnerable, gripped them by the throat, and left a realm of ruin behind.
“You’re in my blood, beating in my fucking heart. The only way you go is when the heart stops.”
“You and I, Amara, we will never be anyone else’s,”
“You’re the queen on the board, Amara. You’re my most powerful piece, but my most vulnerable. They get you, they get me, and the game is over. So, I’ll do whatever I need to make sure they never get you. Even if that means hiding you like my dirty little secret for the time being.”
I’m not a slave to my desires, they’re a slave to me.”
“He and I, we are doomed to bleed from a wound that will never heal.”
“We get out of here. We fucking reconnect. Did you really think I was going to let you go? After fighting for us for a decade, did you really think that, Amara?”
Sometimes, mourning and celebration are two sides of the same coin.”
“Be my wife, be my dirty girl, be mine,” he mumbled against her lips.
“Give me your dreams and your nightmares, your pleasure and your pain, your fantasies and your fears. Give me everything. Be my queen outside, and my filthy girl inside,” he hammered his hips into hers, his words coming out rough, gritty, raw. “And make me fucking yours, so everyone who looks at my ring knows I have you finally. Say yes, Amara.”
