“Did you ever think we would be anything other than unbelievable?”
“Kissing you is.. I tried so had for so long to deny myself. I tried to do tho right thing. But ever since we kissed on your birthday I knew once i started I'd never be able.. even through we can't..”
“You must love no-thingness,
You must flee something,
You must remain alone,
And go to nobody.
You must be very active
And free of all things.
You must deliver the captives
And force those who are free.
You must comfort the sick
And yet have nothing yourself.
You must drink the water of suffering
And light the fire of Love with the wood of the virtues.
Thus you live in the true desert.”
“I pushed passed him. He grabbed my hand and swung me back towards him. Then he pushed me against the wall and... he kissed me.
He ran his thumb along my jawline and down my throat, hips pinning me to the wall. He kissed me slowly and with intensity, and once I got over the mind-numbing shock and comprehended what was actually happening, it was incredible. I had never been kissed like that before. We melted together. Every movement of mine was somehow perfectly mirrored by his. My heart was pounding so hard I knew he must be able to feel it and I was sure my legs were giving way, but he held me up, pushed me harder against the wall.
I grabbed a handful of his hair, remembering all the times I'd dreamed of doing it. I let my hand drift down his back and pulled him even closer to me. It all happened so quickly. I heard him make a low kind of growl and lean into me. His hand slid down my leg behind my knee, drawing it to him. I moaned and felt him tense.”
“I hoisted myself onto my elbows. "Yeah, well, if I ever come back as a Grigori, then I'll kick your ass."
"You'll come back, and you'll be a Grigori." He spoke with such certainty it made me smile. "I doubt very greatly, however, that you'll kick my ass. But me and my ass will enjoy your efforts.”
“I know because an angel told me.”
“Running a bit late meet at my place around 7?'
Smiling at the phone, my fingers fumbling over the keypad quickly,
'Yup-see you there!'
I deleted the exclamation mark and counted to thirty before I allowed myself to press send.”
“It's like he's training you for battle or something." Her eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe he has some underground fight club and he's grooming you!"
"That's it, Steph. Definitely.”
“He was reading the morning paper. She was giving their toddler pieces of toast and jam, which the little girl proceeded to wipe all over her face and the wall behind. The woman laughed as the toddler squealed, and he couldn't help peeking over the top of his paper every few seconds to watch them, admiring the view.
That's what it was supposed to be like. Two people meet, fall in love, and then do normal things.”
“Ever heard the phrase, 'candy is dandy but liquor is quicker?'"
Great she wanted to get me drunk.
"Ah...ever heard of underage!"
"Where there's a will there's a way," she said, matter-of-factly.
"That's your great plan?”
“What do you want Phoenix?"
"I'm going away for a while. I wanted to say goodbye." He smiled, but it was empty. There was nothing there.
"Fine, goodbye.”
“Linc, I have no idea what you're talking about. I actually thought that was kind of unbelievable as far as kisses go." I was glad we were in the dark and he couldn't see me blushing.
He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl of frustration. He pulled me in for a hug, which I fell into, feeling crushed. I had the strangest feeling we were stealing this moment and no matter how tightly I held on, it wouldn't help. Lincoln's next words were soft and perhaps not even meant for me, but they burned their way right into my soul.
"Did you ever think we would be anything other than unbelievable?”
“You are you and you are me. You are the Keshet.”
“I'm tipsy." I corrected, "and it's my birthday and I want to dance. Come one, Linc, it won't kill you.”
“If comprehension lay at your feet, there would be no need to walk in search of it”
“Remember always, everyone has a place of perfect belonging, and if they leave that place without permission, sometimes they must be returned.”
“If I didn't have Lincoln's butt to stare at the whole time, motivation would be a lot harder to come by.”
“Violet Eden!" Steph said sternly, sucking me out of my trance. "We have your dad's Amex, a green light and no specified limit." Her mock rebuke morphed into a devious grin. "What more could a girl want as a birthday present?”
“Dad, youre so far off the mark I can't even...Lincoln hasn't pressured me at all!" I grabbed my bag and heaved it onto my back. "WE'RE JUST FRIENDS! He's not even interested in me like that - and thanks to you," I shook my head at him in utter disbelief, "he never will now.”
“Linc?"
"Yeah."
"About the other thing my dad said to you," I cringed.
"What else is he supposed to think?" he asked, a smile in his tone. "You're over here all the time. If not training, we're hanging out. I'm surprised he hasn't warned me off sooner. It's good to see he's paying attention.”
“Griffin stared at me, his expression grave. "There are only three things both light and dark exiles have in common. They despise each other, they hate grigori, and they place no value on the casualties of their brutal wars."
Excellent news. Not only was I apparently some weird angel-human combo, but I already had myself a badass immortal enemy.”
“It's going to be like an...aura, I guess."
He looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. "Explain?"
"Like even though there are outside forces pushing through the walls, in here it's like a bubble of goodness. Like coming home."
I could feel him smiling and it encouraged me to elaborate. "When I think of how others would see it, I imagine them seeing a force of goodness overshadowing a force of evil, protecting it.”
“Right now, the only person I could stand to be around was myself, and that was only because I had no say in the matter.”
“Lincoln was drifting in and out of consciousness. He took shallow breaths and his lips were blue. Connecting with him had been something that I had ben trying very hard not to do of late. How could I open myself to him? My mind drifted to the dream I'd had, to the stranger who said he was me. Was he my angel maker? With all I now knew, it seemed more plausible that the dream had really meant something. I remembered the painting, the colors. And I remembered the question: What are we to become?
I didn't realize I had spoken aloud until Lincoln whispered, "Everything we can.”
“There as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year's course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose it's meaning if it were not balanced by sadness"- Carl Jung”
“When I turned back, he was already walking away. It was a brilliantly clear day, not a cloud in sight, and yet the sun didn't seem to reach his body. He was shadowed and I couldn't help it: I felt sad for him.”
“He gave a sarcastic, empty laugh. ‘A lot isn’t fair. It’s not fair that I had to be the one to train you to be a Grigori. It’s not fair that I couldn’t tell you the truth, even though I knew you’d hate me for it. It’s not fair that I was dying and became the reason you embraced, which only gives you more reason to push me away. It’s not fair that I know how great we would be together, except that we can’t. It’s not fair that, even though I know I’ll never have you, I had planned everything – the candles, the lilies – replayed the words I wanted to say a million times when you and I finally made love. I get that it’s not fair, but I’m still going to ask because we’re on a roll of all that is unfair, so what’s one more thing?’ He grabbed the wardrobe door and slammed it so hard it almost broke off its hinges.”
“Sacrifice still exists everywhere, and everywhere the elect of each generation suffers for the salvation of the rest.” Henri Frédéric Amiel”
“And what about me, Violet? Do you love me?” “That’s not fair.” I looked down at my feet; my pants were covered in dirt and dried blood. He gave a sarcastic, empty laugh. “A lot isn’t fair. It’s not fair that I had to be the one to train you to be a Grigori. It’s not fair that I couldn’t tell you the truth, even though I knew you’d hate me for it. It’s not fair that I was dying and became the reason you embraced, which only gives you more reason to push me away. It’s not fair that I know how great we would be together, except that we can’t. It’s not fair that, even though I know I’ll never have you, I had planned everything—the candles, the lilies—replayed the words I wanted to say a million times when you and I finally made love. I get that it’s not fair, but I’m still going to ask because we’re on a roll of all that is unfair, so what’s one more thing?” He grabbed the wardrobe door and slammed it so hard it almost broke off its hinges. My mind was boggling at everything he’d just said. “Lilies?” He half laughed. “White. You don’t like roses.”
“There are two great days in a person’s life—the day we are born and the day we discover why.” William Barclay I”
“Tish-ah!" said the grass. "Tish-ah, tish-ah!" Never had it said anything else--never would it say anything else. It bent resiliently under the trampling feet; it did not break, but it complained aloud every time--for nothing like this had ever happened to it before.”
“Life is not meant to be an open-book test.”
“Most people in the grip of depression at its ghastliest are, for whatever reason, in a state of unrealistic hopelessness, torn by exaggerated ills and fatal threats that bear no resemblance to actuality. It may require on the part of friends, lovers, family, admirers, an almost religious devotion to persuade the sufferers of life’s worth, which is so often in conflict with a sense of their own worthlessness, but such devotion has prevented countless suicides.”
“Just so you know, you can call me anything you want—just as long as you always call me.”
“He gave her one. “It is totally unfair,” he said in his most severe voice, “to engage in a snowball fight when only one combatant can make snowballs.” He waited, loving the way her eyes sparkled. “Well?” Even without reading the thoughts beneath it, he could tell her touch was filled with laughter. Daemon bent down, gathered some snow, and learned how to make a snowball from snow too fluffy to pack. This, too, was similar to a basic lesson in Craft—creating a ball of witchlight—yet it required a subtler, more intrinsic knowledge of Craft than he’d ever known anyone to have. “Did the Priest teach you how to do this?” he asked as he straightened up, delighted with the perfect snowball in his hand. Jaenelle stared at him, aghast. Then she laughed. “Noooo.” She quickly cocked her arm and hit him in the chest with her snowball. The next few minutes were all-out war, each of them pelting the other as fast as they could make snowballs. When it was over, Daemon was peppered with clumps of white. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. “I leave the field to you, Lady,” he panted. “As well you should,” she replied tartly. Daemon looked up, one eyebrow rising.”
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