Flock (The Ravenhood, #1)

by Kate Stewart

That’s the novelty of fiction versus reality. You can’t re-live your own love story because, by the time you’ve realized you’re living it, it’s over. At least that was the case for me.

Most consider knowing all-consuming love a blessing, but I consider it a curse. A curse I’ll never be able to lift. I’ll never know love again as I did here

all those years ago. And I don’t want to. I can’t. I’m still sick with it.

There is no question in my mind that for me, it was love. What other pull could be so strong? What other feeling could addict me to the point of insanity? Of doing the things I did and ...

The only love I’ve ever known or craved is the kind that keeps me sick, sick with longing, sick with lust, sick with need, sick with grief. The distorted kind that leaves scars and jaded hearts.

“Those boys, pretty as they are, I think might have the devil inside them.”

“It’s the only measure of time that matters. Time itself is just an invisible line, a measure people made up, right? You know that. And while it’s good for reference, it’s also a major stress trigger, because you’re letting it control you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t give it power. Now is now, later will eventually be now. Don’t be a slave to the insanity of keeping time and keeping up. Now

is the only thing you have control over, and even so, it’s an illusion.”

When a man confesses his love to me, I expect him to mean it. I don’t want to question the words’ authenticity.

I want to be claimed and owned and ruled and possessed by love. Is that expecting too much?

My greatest hope is to be in all-consuming love. My biggest fear is to be in all-consuming love.

“It’s okay to want his dick, baby, I’ll watch it go inside you and fucking love the view, and the savage it’ll make me.”

“If you’re ever wondering what to do, that’s what you do. Whatever you fucking want, whenever you want, and you don’t apologize for it, not ever.”