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Handsome in the way rough palms muffle screams, the way people bow to kings, and most of all . . . the way an angel falls from grace.
Holding eye contact with him felt like a deadly game. Like Russian roulette. A revolver and one bullet. A single wrong blink, and I’d be dead.
“Darkness there, and nothing more . . .”
Maybe Moscow wasn’t so bad after all.
He pulled back to roughly say, “Ty dazhe na vkus sladkaya.”
"you even taste sweet" HEHEHEHE
“Moy kotyonok.” I ran a thumb across her parted lips. “I told you this city would eat you alive.” I just didn’t tell her I owned Moscow and everything in it.
“Just remember . . . you have a goddess inside you.” She stepped into the hall and turned to look at me. “You just have to find her.”
“You’ll get what’s coming to you, D’yavol. And when you do, I’ll smile when they cover you with dirt.”
recited, J’ai le syndrome de Stockholm. Tu as le syndrome de Stockholm. Nous avons le syndrome de Stockholm.
Gen-Zs wouldn’t know romance if it hit them with a bus.
HELP
In this world, things weren’t black and white. I preferred yellow anyway.
If I could long for the devil, it meant I had some darkness in me too.
“You don’t throw things away just because they hurt you!”
The moonlight loved her. But not as much as my shadows. “Ti slishkom ideal’naya chto bi byt’ nastoyashchey.” The words escaped me without thought, and when she looked at me with wet lashes, so did the translation I pressed to her ear.
"you are too perfect to be real" IM SOBBING
