V

“There is no overkill, his voice reminds me, drifting around my mind like a desert wind. There is only kill, or die. Death need not be your heart stopping. It can be the loss of music. Or memory. Or freedom. Whatever you fear most, that is death. So kill, Bria. Kill every risk that would kill you first. Only then can you enjoy the death that is suffered by your hand. And I will. I will enjoy it very much. I’m coming for you, Caron Berger. One little lamb at a time.”
― Brynne Weaver, Black Sheep

“Alec Briar had the eyes of a killer.  
He had the heart of a monster.  
I knew he’d never let me go.  
I never wanted him to.”
― Clio Evans, Nocturnal

“A loud smack startles me and I pull back, but it doesn’t phase him. It was the book. He cast it to the floor so he could grasp my waist with firm fingers. He dives for my neck, layering searing kisses to my surging pulse. “I feel compelled to tell you that I hate you,” I breathe as he bites and sucks on my skin. I start tugging the collar of his jacket off. “Just like I hate your leather satchel and your hideous tweed jacket that looks like it came from the hipster reject pile. If I could feel secondhand embarrassment for anyone, I would feel it for you.” Kaplan’s dark laugh heats my skin as he nips my earlobe and a moan escapes my lips. “Good. I’ll wear it every fucking day. I’ll even sew suede patches on the elbows.”
― Brynne Weaver, Black Sheep

“You’re ruining me.”
“It’s vengeance for you corrupting me.”
― Clio Evans, Nocturnal