A Curse for True Love

And he loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her so much he’d rewritten history.

I am a monster, but whether you remember it or not, I’m your monster, Evangeline.

I already told you. You are the love of my life. You are mine, Jacks of the Hollow. And you’re not going to be the end of me.” “But you were dying.” “No,” she said, a little embarrassed. “I just forgot to breathe.

Once upon a time, a girl who believed in fairytales stole the heart of a prince who had sworn to never love.

She tried to pull away, but Jacks held tight, knotting her hair in his fist and keeping his forehead pressed to hers. "Please, Little Fox, remember.

She was the moth and Jacks was still the flame.

He would carry her through more than just freezing waters. He would pull her through fire if he had to, haul her from the clutches of war, from falling cities and breaking worlds . . .

This isn’t just for now, it’s for always, Little Fox.

For anyone who has ever hoped for a second chance.

You ask a lot of questions." "Only because you do a lot of questionable things.

I'm broken. I like to break things. Sometimes I want to break you." "Then break me Jacks.

He gritted his teeth. “Being yours does not make you mine.

I used to fear it meant that I had no real choices. Then I secretly hoped fate was real and that you and I were fated, that by some miraculous chance I was your true love. But now I don’t care if fate is real—because I don’t need it to decide for me. I don’t need it to make this choice. I’ve made my decision, Jacks. It’s you. It will always be you, until the end of time. And I’ll fight fate or anyone else who tries to tear us apart- including you. You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine. And you are not going to be the end of me, Jacks.

Jacks had so badly wanted to tell her that he couldn't even remember what Donatella looked like, that Evangeline's face was the only one he saw whenever he closed his eyes, that he would go with her anywhere . . . if he could.

Being yours does not make you mine.

I love you, Jacks. I used to wonder if fate was real. I used to fear it meant that I had no real choices. Then I secretly hoped fate was real and that you and I were fated, that by some miraculous chance I was true love. But now I don't care if fate is real--because I don't need it to decide for me. I don't need it to make this choice. I've made my decision, Jacks. It's you. It will always be you, until the end of time. And I'll fight fate or anyone else who tries to tear us apart--including you. You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine. And you are not going to be the end of me, Jacks.

He considered setting the room ablaze just so that he'd have a reason to pick her up and carry her out, to save her one last time, before he left her for good.

Jacks had always considered himself more of a sadist than a masochist. He enjoyed inflicting pain, not receiving it. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave the shadows of Evangeline’s bedroom.

He wanted her to look at him, just once, and know him the way she had before.

What is the point of having friends if they’re not there to support your bad decisions?

I’m glad you came.” “I’ll always come. Even when you don’t want me to.

I'd rather go up in flames with him than watch while he burns.

This isn't just for now, it's for always, Little Fox." "I like the sound of always.

He wanted to keep her pressed to the floor beneath him. He would have set the world on fire and then let it all burn just to keep holding her like this.

I’m actually a little afraid I’m going to lose. I no longer think love is a guarantee of victory or of happily ever after. But I think it’s a reason to fight for those things. I know my attempt to save Jacks could end in a fiery explosion, but I’d rather go up in flames with him than watch while he burns.

Jacks had been the moon and she'd been the tide, controlled by his impossible force.

You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine.

He glanced at her sideways. "You shouldn't stare at me like that." "Then how should I stare?" "You shouldn't stare at me at all." He abruptly looked away.

You know,' she confessed, 'I've always loved your dimples.' 'I know.' He smirked. 'You were so obvious with your love at first sight.' 'It was not love at first sight.' She huffed. 'I only said I like your dimples at the start.' She dropped her hand from his cheek. 'I didn't even like you. I thought you were terrible.' 'And yet.' He grabbed her hand again and wrapped it around his neck. 'You kept staring.' Well...' She wrapped her other hand around his neck before sliding her fingers back into his hair. She really loved his hair. 'I might not have liked you, but you were always ridiculously handsome.

He seemed uncharacteristically nervous as he reached toward her cheek. He slowly took an errant pink strand of hair between his fingers and tucked it behind her ear. He was so careful, his fingers didn't even brush her skin, but he looked as if he wanted to.