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I slid another straw between Adrik’s lips as he slept beside me, my big ass bodyguard like a tank filling out his entire seat despite the huge size of it. He had fourteen wedged between his lips now and every time he let out a snore, the sound rippled through them and a few fluttered down onto his lap. I put them straight back in, obviously.
“What would your father say if he was here to see you dressed this way?” he growled. “Um, he’d likely be more interested in getting his hands on the free drinks seeing as he’s been burning in hell for years. He’s probably parched,” I deadpanned.
end. You can’t raise monsters and expect them not to be monstrous
That was the downfall of arrogant men. Assuming women weren’t a threat to their grand empires.
She was always bragging to me about her Jimmy Choo heels that she said Cristiano Ronaldo gifted her.” He threw his head back on a laugh. “Honey, ain’t no Cristiano Ronaldo gifting you anything when you walk in heels like a Muppet without the strings. Honest to god, I saw her coming down the street once and almost called Jim Henson to come pick up Kermit the Frog.”
"Vivamus, moriendum est," I quoted for her, not needing to look down at the swirling script which ran across my chest surrounded by the feathers of large angel wings to know it by heart. "My latin is a little rusty, big fella." "It basically means, 'let us live, since we must die.'"
“You’re the first thing I’ve seen in a long fucking time that makes my heart beat again, do you get that? You’re far from perfect. In fact, you’re so rough around the edges you chip off pieces of the people around you without even trying. But fuck perfect. I’ve had perfect and it tastes like nothing. Vanilla, boring, soulless and fucking empty. But you, you’re so full, you’re
practically overflowing with life. And not just the good, you’re full of the bad too. I look at you and see death and music. And sometimes I see a girl who wants happiness more than anything in the fucking world, but you decided a long time ago you couldn’t have it, didn’t you? You gave up on that dream, but it’s still there, sleeping. And maybe it’s time you woke it up.”
“I’ve been thinking long and hard on this, and I’ve decided on my payback for the dick flick,” Church said and I gave him a dry look. “What’s that then, Churchy?” I asked lightly. “One good, firm nip flick,” he said, his eyes dropping to my chest. “But you’re gonna need to get one tit out so I can line up my flick.” He placed his finger against his thumb in preparation and I reached into my jacket like I was actually gonna do it then pulled my hand back out and offered him my middle finger. “I didn’t need your cock out to flick it,
“You, Anya Butcher, are the fire that burns in my chest every time I look at you. You’re the passion which opens my eyes every time I want to blinker myself from the truth. You’re the breath of fresh air in my lungs which shook up a life which was always going to be stagnant for me. I’m a violent, honourless man and I was content to stay as such until you.”
