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twin omens of doom.
Dark things hate the light.
Getting turned on by the sight of this girl is unusual and unplanned, and I hate that. I really fucking hate that.
The way her hair falls over her pillow and the way my gaze keeps drifting back to her neck and her mouth make me want to kill her even more.
But for a little while longer, I just watch her. Curious about her, even though I don’t want to be.
“You’re bound to us now, little bird,”
“Do you want to be wrecked?”
“You wanna keep this hand?” he asks conversationally, squeezing it even tighter and making the guy contort to try to ease the pressure. “Then don’t put it on that girl. Ever. Got it?”
“Good girl.”
“We do whatever the fuck we like, and you’ll do whatever the fuck we say.”
in one of her ‘be a good mom’ phases, where she showers me with love and affection, pretending like all the times she’s stolen from me and manipulated me haven’t happened. Those phases never seem to last very long, but I can’t seem to bring myself to tell her to fuck off when they do happen. Because it feels nice, having someone care. Even if it’s just temporary.
It always seemed to be me helping her, though, never the other way around. But whenever I got upset about it, she’d remind me that she was all I had in the world. That she gave me a roof over my head and food to eat, so I owed her for that.
my chest aches the way it used to back then, when I had to remind myself to breathe more often than was probably normal.
He’s the one who took the fall for our dad’s murder, when really, it was all of us who killed him.
I wanted those mesmerizing brown eyes of hers to focus on me. Wanted to hear her voice.
And even though it’s probably a bad idea, I want to know every fucking thing about her.
this is one of the first times in recent memory that my mom has had any real consequences for something that she did. I’ve stood up to her before, but she always finds some way to flip things around and avoid taking responsibility.
Sometimes the people you love turn your love against you, and it’s the most brutal weapon in the world.”
“Ty izdayesh’ samyye krasivyye zvuki, kogda konchayesh’.”
"You make the most beautiful sounds when you cum."
Solnyshka?”
"Little sun" possibly "sunshine"
“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll take good care of you.”
I know what it’s like to have someone who should be on your side treat you like shit and manipulate you.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I have to admit, when I came home and saw you standing there between the two of them, I was jealous as hell.”
“I’ve been staring at your lips all night. I have to know if they taste as sweet as they look.”
“I knew you had a wild side,” he murmurs. “I like it. Have a good night, angel. Get some rest.”
I can’t seem to get Willow out of my mind.
Willow makes me want something that no one else ever has before.
She feels like a drug. Like something that’s going to wreck us all.
“I was right. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be so fucking soaked right now.”
“No one in this room knows that you’re about to come. No one but you and me. They don’t know how fucking slick you are, or how you’re grinding against my hand. They don’t know how fucking greedy you are.”
three dangerous men who move in and out of my life like deadly shadows.
“I want a fucking name. Who hurt you?”
“It is my fucking business. Because you’re my business.”
“I’m no one. I’m nobody’s business.” I can tell she means it. That she’s used to being used and overlooked. Used to not mattering. Something about that vulnerability in her calls to something in me.
“Someone hurts you? Someone touches you? That’s my fucking business.”
Ever since the day I stopped by to see her in her classroom, I haven’t been able to get the fucking taste of her out of my head.
I hope she can feel it. I want her to feel fucking everything. I feel like I’m starving, so fucking hungry for her.
But I haven’t wanted anyone. All I can picture whenever I’m with a woman these days is a head of soft blonde hair, a petite face with delicate features, large eyes, and full lips. Even her scars make her fucking gorgeous, like no one I’ve ever seen before.
“Because you’re our responsibility. And we don’t let people hurt what’s ours.”
I like that she picked me.
“I just want to know more about you,” he admits. “I want to know everything.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line, and I’m filled with the overwhelming and irrational desire to kiss that goddamned frown off her face. To toss her down on Ransom’s bed and make her scream my name until she can’t pretend to hate me anymore. She’s under my skin somehow, and I don’t want her there. I fucking hate it.
The more she hates me, the easier it will be to keep telling myself I hate her too.
my mind is still on the beautiful blonde waif down the hall.
“But I still see that wild streak in you. Maybe you want to be a bad girl. Maybe that’s who you are at heart.”
“Why don’t you just admit you want her? Maybe it’ll do us all some good. Maybe it’ll keep you from flying off the handle every time someone looks at her in a way you don’t like.”
“Men have always treated me badly. Almost every man I’ve ever known. And no one has ever stood up for me before.”
“Sometimes it’s better to be alone,” I tell her. “When you’re alone, no one can hurt you.”
She wants to have some claim over me, however unconsciously, and a part of me likes that.
“Yesli ty uydesh', ya naydu tebya,” I breathe. “Ya vyslezhu tebya i vernu tuda, gde ty dolzhna byt’.”
"If you leave I will find you. I will track you down and return you to where you belong."
