Proceed very carefully with what you’re about to say,” Roth advised softly. “That’s my girl you’re about to insult, and I’m not going to be happy about that. At all.
I had to prove that what he believed wasn’t true. Prove that he was the total of everything he had done and not the dark things he was ashamed of, and I would do so because I loved him and accepted him for who he was, for all his faults. That was what love meant. Love fostered courage.
I liked him better when he’d lost the ability to speak.
Whoa.” Cayman threw up his hands. “Simmer down, crouching demon, hidden Warden. He’s fine.
I loved him more than I loved pralines and beignets, and that was hardcore, because my love of sugary, sweet things rivaled the most epic love stories known to man.
I’m beginning to think we’re attending the most cray-cray high school in North America.
I was in love with him. I knew that much was true. Love was the swelling, hopeful feeling in my chest every time I saw him. Love was the way I could forget about everything when I was with him. Love was the catch in my breath when he looked at me in his intense way. Love was the gasp he could draw out of me with the simplest of touches. Love was the way I could... I could be myself around him, know that I didn’t need to be perfect or worry about what he was thinking, because he accepted me.
It was perfect. She was perfect. And I was the luckiest guy.
Unless it had been Castiel, because I was totally cool with him rising me up from perdition if that was what happened.
I feel like an epic fail right now. Like I’m the captain of my own personal failboat.
Without even doing it, I’d turned into one of those girls whose life ceases to exist outside of her boyfriend. And I didn’t even have a boyfriend.
A gray leather couch was against the wall. Above it was a giant framed photo of One Direction.
Tell me yes,” he ordered huskily. “Tell me yes and I’ll do whatever you want. Anything you want. Just let me do this.
Don’t you dare say you wanted me, because you treated me like I was the Antichrist!
What are you?” she asked, her nose scrunching as she spoke. “Other than a heart-stopping hot guy with obvious boundary issues and problems with anger management?
Death is a hard thing to deal with, no matter how old you are.
There is only you and me. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Mates. Lovers,” he said, and muscles low in my stomach curled tight. “I don’t care what you call me as long as you call me yours.
I just never thought I’d get to see how beautiful you’d become.
For the love of all unholy things, why must you be so difficult? I apologized for calling you a prude. I’ll even apologize for yesterday. I scared you. I threw your cell in a toilet. See, I was raised in Hell. You could say I’m socially awkward.
You need to stop the Lilin, but the only thing you’ve really accomplished is the loss of your virginity. Still, I suppose congratulations are in order. It is a milestone, after all. Please pass my good tidings to the Prince.