Shelley

“He shot forward, clasping my cheeks. “Say it again.”
“Say what?” I replied, gripping his wrists. “I said a lot of things. Help me out here.”
"Say that I'm not just the Apollyon," he whispered, his voice harsh.
Tears built in my throat. "You're not just the Apollyon, Seth."
His eyes drifted shut, his face tensed as his fingers splayed across my cheeks. "I don't even know who I am anymore. Or what I ever was."
Oh goodness, that ripped right through my chest. "You're just...you're just Seth."
A tremor moved through his arms. "And you...you're just my salvation.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, The Return

“Smoke fills the room, gray and sylphlike, lovely in its deadly grace. It trails into the fire and forms what appear to be wings—black and magnificent. A man’s silhouette fills out the image, two arms reaching for me.
Morpheus, or a mirage?
My mind trips back to our dance across the starlit sky in Wonderland, how amazing it felt to be so free. What would it feel like to dance with him in the middle of a blazing inferno, surrounded by an endless power that breathes and grows at our will?”
― A.G. Howard, Unhinged

“He pulls free before we make contact. “A moment, please. Allow me to bask in your devotion.” He’s referring to my ankle tattoo.
I blush. “I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s only a set of wings.”
“Nonsense.” Morpheus grins. “I know a moth when I see one.”
I groan in frustration, and he surrenders, letting me press our markings together. A spark rushes between them, expanding to a firestorm through my veins. His gaze locks on mine, and the bottomless depths flicker—like black clouds alive with lightning. For that instant, I’m bared to the bone. He looks inside my heart; I look inside his. And the similarities there terrify me.”
― A.G. Howard, Unhinged

“Nothing about you or Wonderland makes sense. And the ‘one abiding truth’ is that life was so much easier when I’d forgotten your massive ego and that other world ever existed.”
A tremor shifts through his features, first fragile, then severe. His muscles twitch under his T-shirt, sending a tingling sensation through my knuckles. “You want me nonexistent?"

Before I can respond, he steps back and flips the hat from his head. Then he drags off his vest and his T-shirt, dropping them all on the floor at my feet. Once he’s peeled off his necklace and bracelets, he stands there facing me in only jeans and boots.

I watch him warily. “W-w-what are you doing?”

“I’m clearing the way for my massive ego.”
― A.G. Howard, Unhinged