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To those who have lost. May your waves of grief never be taller than your strength.
“Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.”
And to be honest, I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of forgetting how to live.
power surge through me. “You want to fuck the lightkeeper, too?” Sloane scoffs, though her face flushes anyway. “Someone’s full of themselves.” My smirk widens into a full-fledged grin. “Bet you’d like to be full of me too, eh, killer?”
“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” He leans in farther, his lips skimming across mine. “Is that what it will take to get you out of my life? Out of my goddamn head?”
“Tell me you’re mine. That you won’t let any other motherfucker touch you.”
“Sinful girl, coming on my tongue and screaming the Lord’s name while you do it,” he rumbles in my ear.
“But there’s beauty in pain, baby.” His hands tilt my face until our gazes lock. “Your strength is in learning how to breathe through it; how to keep living even when it feels like you want to die.”
“I loved her like any kid loves their best friend. Their family.” He slides his fingers from my wrist, up my arm, until he’s cupping my neck, his thumb tilting my chin until I’m staring in his eyes. “But I never loved her the way I’m falling in love with you.”
“I want you, Morgan. Every day. And every night. Every fucked up, annoying, smart-ass thing you say, I want it all. Not because of who I think you were. But because of who you are.”
Because I’ve never felt home the way I do when I’m with him.
“I’m not going to fuck you, Morgan. I’m going to own you, just like you own me.”
