Olivie Blake

You can’t fix me,” she whispered to him, her mouth tracing his neck. Do you understand, do you know what you hold in your hands, do you know how readily it breaks?

“I don’t see anything to fix,” he said

You can’t begin to know the sum of my parts, and you can stare all you like, but you won’t see a damn thing until I show you.

Some people are flawed and interesting,” Callum said with a shrug. “Others are just flawed.”

“I find people to be largely disappointing,” Tristan commented.

“Interestingly, so do I.”

“Is that considered interesting?”

Being desired was Callum’s favorite. That was smoky, too, in a sense, but more sultry, cloaked and perfumed in precisely what it was. It smelled like tangled bedsheets. It tasted like the flicker of a candle flame. It felt like a sigh, a quiet one; concessionary and pleading. He could always

Being desired was Callum’s favorite. That was smoky, too, in a sense, but more sultry, cloaked and perfumed in precisely what it was. It smelled like tangled bedsheets. It tasted like the flicker of a candle flame. It felt like a sigh, a quiet one; concessionary and pleading. He could always feel it on his skin, sharp as a blade. Piercing, like the groan of a lover in his ear.

You know, I’m getting very tired of you,” she informed him shrilly. “Shouldn’t you die soon? Gideon’s had at least seventy mortal years by now.”

“He’s twenty-two,” Nico said.

“What? Impossible,” Eilif scoffed

You know why you don’t understand me?” Parisa answered Reina’s thoughts, stepping closer to lower her voice. “Because you think you’ve figured me out. You think you’ve met me before, other versions of women like me, but you have no idea what I am. You think my looks are what make me? My ambitions? You can’t begin to know the sum of my parts, and you can stare all you like, but you won’t see a damn thing until I show you.”

There is a difference between what we are capable of and how we choose to use it,” she snapped

“A flaw of humanity,” said Parisa, shrugging. “The compulsion to be unique, which is at war with the desire to belong to a single identifiable sameness.”