He had seen so much of life, but even more of death. He had seen countless eras come and go and still he braved forward, forever alone. And here she was ready to give up after a few lousy years. She was a coward.
The closer she hip sways to me, the taller and tenser I stand, until I’m so rigid my muscles ache.
They’d stolen his life.
And rebirthed him as a monster.
He should always wear jeans because they make him look hotter than a nebula. Black suits him too. It hugs to his muscular vales and swells, turning temptation into sexy man therapy.
I do so love the art of severing boundaries
I am not the kind of girl who trusts a man to tell her everything she needs to know in his own due time, so I did some research on my sire. You can take the girl out of the library, but you can’t take the neurotic, compulsively curious librarian out of the girl.
Stapled to her gaze, sucked into the potency of her focus, only the trace of her blood in my mouth reassures me this is not a vision but a hallucinogenic pause from responsibility.
The answer to my thoughts is the loud ripping of my shirt when he tears it straight down my back, yanking it forward around my shoulders and imprisoning my arms in the sleeves.
“I’ve got you now,
Blood Life is not hunger. It’s freedom.
Derek’s. Lucas’. Ben’s. It’s beyond me what I must do to make them realize that I’m neither object nor possession. I don’t belong to any of them.