Informal Theory

“Life is not about living the safer option,’ I told him sleepily. ‘Life is about living a life worth living.’ ‘You”
― Robert Thier, Storm and Silence

“You are my little Ifrit.' His voice travelled up to me right through his chest, deep and strong. 'How could I possibly say no?”
― Robert Thier, Silence is Golden

“Knowledge is power is time is money. Meaning that if I shared knowledge, it would tantamount to sharing power or money.”
― Robert Thier, In the Eye of the Storm

“I am not a man who often expresses is emotions, Miss Linton."

"You don't say?"

"But I must admit I was... somewhat concerned for you."

I had to work hard to keep a smile from my face."

"Somewhat concerned? Dear God, really?"

Abruptly, he turned to me, his eyes blazing with cold fire. "Dammit! Do not joke, Miss Linton!"

I looked up at him, the picture of innocence drawn by a five-year-old with absolutely no artistic talent. "I wouldn't dare!"

Stepping towards me, he reached out, until one of his hands gently touched my cheek. "I..." He swallowed, and tried again. "I might be slightly... irrationally infatuated with you."

Warmth spread deep inside me. And on my face, a grin did. "Irrationally infatuated? Dear me!"

His jaw clenched. "All right, all right! I may even have certain... impulses towards you that border on caring about you."

"You don't say?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I am so glad to hear that you feel a certain amount of friendship towards me."

His dark gaze pierced me accusingly. But I was enjoying this far too much to stop. I wouldn't make it easy for him.

"Friendship is not the right word, Miss Linton," he bit out between clenched teeth, every word like a shard of burning ice. "My impulses towards you... they might go slightly beyond the platonic."

"Oh, so they are Aristotelian?"

"Mr Lin-" He swallowed, hard. "I mean Miss Linton, we are not discussing philosophy here!"

I batted my eyelashes at him. "Indeed? Then pray tell, what are we discussing?"

"I... I..."

"You can say it, you know," I told him. "The word isn't poisonous."

"I... have feelings towards you."

"Clearly. I knew that from the first day from the way you shouted at me and pelted me with threats."

"Not those kinds of feelings!"

"What kind, then?"

"I feel... affection towards you."

"You're nearly there," I encouraged him, my smile widening. "Just four little letters. The word starts with L. Go on. You can do it."

"You're enjoying this, Miss Linton, aren't you?"

"Very much so."

"Oh, to hell with it!"... His mouth took mine in a fast, fierce, bruising kiss... Finally he broke away, and with the remnants of his breath whispered: "I love you!”
― Robert Thier, Silence Breaking