Arrows and Apologies (Monsters & Muses, #4)

by Sav R. Miller

Like water and sky, blue flows effortlessly between one medium to the next, making it the connector of all colors.

“Because I’m a bitch?” She smiles. “An acquired taste, not for the faint of heart.”

Perhaps that’s one of the things that draws me to her; there’s a fire that lives in her, fueled by determination and spite, that can’t be doused with water or sand. It’s the kind of fire you smother. The kind others have tried. Me? I have no desire to put it out. I want to watch her burn.

Sometimes, even the best intentions blow up in your face.

If people think you’re just a pawn, they’ll have no way to prepare for the day you flip the game board.

There’s something wildly intoxicating about bringing a powerful, dangerous man to his knees. It makes you want, even when you know he’s bad for you. Maybe especially then. Desserts tend to be more delicious when you’re not supposed to have them.

You don’t have to light the match to be responsible for the carnage.

You care a whole lot more than you’re willing to admit, and that terrifies you, doesn’t it? Because getting hurt sometimes is the price you pay for giving a shit, and you’ve lost so much at this point that you can’t fathom losing more.”

it seems like he’s the only person who’s ever met the real me and not wanted me to change. If anything, he seems to genuinely like me and want to take care of me, and maybe that is a little terrifying.

here I am, rearranging my entire life to fit her inside it?

A woman made for sin—the body of an angel and the heart of a bloody devil.

I’m not used to being affected by anyone so viscerally, but I suppose that’s what love is—soul-deep and catastrophic. The kind of thing that has the power to effectively ruin you but that you trust isn’t going to.

Maybe not all people are so starved for genuine love and affection, and they’re more capable of acknowledging the real deal.

How do you heal a broken heart when you’ve just noticed its fractures?

I feel loved, and it’s now that I realize nothing’s ever remotely touched me the way a single look from this man does. How sad that I might not get to spend the rest of my life enjoying it.

“You love me?” I repeat, a tiny sliver of something sprouting in my chest. “Infinitely and with every fiber of my being, Cora Astor. I’ve loved you since the second you walked into my life, and I’ll love you every second after until I have no more to love you with.”