“I lose my head when I’m with you.”
… “And I find myself when I’m with you.”
“Fall with me,” I whispered.
He leaned down, lips just brushing mine, and Zachary Kennedy murmured his truth.
“I already jumped.”
“Sometimes it gets old, living in the shadows. Somehow they’re not quite so dark when you’re around.”
“Tell me you need me, Alexis. Tell me you need this as fucking bad as I do. Tell me it’s okay. Tell me I’m not the only one who’s losing his mind.” The words grated, rugged and fuelled by need.
Emotion thickened in my throat, so heavy, so right. “I need you.”
The last threads of whatever was holding Zee back snapped.”
“Guess I imagined being a part of a feeling that could be brought to life in people’s imaginations and eyes”
“This man, who’d rushed in to hold together all the splintering pieces of my world and forced them back together before they were completely destroyed and unrepairable.
…
I felt bound to him in an unfathomable way.
As if when he’d been holding those splintering pieces together, the man had managed to chip away a small piece of my soul. A piece that would permanently belong to him.”
“I want things that will only ruin me, Alexis. But you…you make me want to wish for them anyway. Make me believe there’s a chance that maybe they could belong to me.”
“Fuck…Alexis…Lex. I need you…God, I need you so bad I can’t fucking see.”
“I think I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. Not in all my life.”
“Chains were a bitch. But sometimes they were the only things tying us to what was most important.”
“That’s the thing, Alexis. I see you looking at me the way you do. Like we could be somethin’. And I want it so fucking bad. To be something to you. To be good for you. But I ruined that possibility a long time ago and I’m not sure there are enough pieces left to give any of them to you. That’s my truth.”
“Can’t get you out of my mind, Lex. Doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out. You’ve gotten under my skin. So deep. So fucking deep.”
My fingers sank into the bristling muscle of his shoulders. “Why would you want to stop thinking of me? Don’t you feel this?”
His voice was pained. “Don’t you get it yet? That’s the problem. I feel everything. I want you so goddamned bad, and I can’t ever have you.”
“You make me want to be better. You…you make me forget. Make me forget who I am.”
… “Maybe you’re just remembering who you are. Who you were always supposed to be.”
… He groaned, half pained, half demand. “You almost make me feel like him.”
“Is that what you feel? Like you’re invisible?” That connection I didn’t understand flamed within my chest. Building and intensifying. “Because you’re the only thing I see.” He flinched. “That’s the problem with all of this.”
“And on the moon there is surely water...And up there, if water exists, and air, then so does life.
A life perhaps different from ours. Perhaps that water has the flavor of (let us say) glycyrrhizin, or cardamon, or even of pepper. If there are infinite worlds, this proves the infinite ingenuity of the Engineer of our Universe, but then there is no limit to this Poet. He can have created inhabited worlds everywhere, but inhabited by ever-different creatures. Perhaps the inhabitants of the sun are sunnier, brighter, and more illuminated than are the inhabitants of the earth, who are heavy with matter, and the inhabitants of the moon lie somewhere in between. On the sun live beings who are all Form, or all Act, if you prefer, while on the earth beings are made of mere Potentials that evolve, and on the moon they are in medio fluctuantes, lunatics, so to speak...”
“I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel, she said. I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.”
“Dear Maribor, you’re heavy,” Hadrian growled as he untied the rope.
“No, I’m not. You’re wounded.” Royce moved his hand and felt the blood-soaked clothes. “God, we’re bleeding like a slit throat.”
“You’re bleeding more than me,” Hadrian said.
“Oh, does that make you feel better?”
“Actually it does.”
“Widmerpool had tidied himself up a little since leaving school, though there was still a kind of exotic drabness about his appearance that seemed to mark him out from the rest of mankind.”
“It is no small thing, this, for a woman: freedom.”
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