He was an animal. He was terrifying. And he was beautiful. I realized that I was biting my lip, that my hand was wound into the ruffled fabric at my chest. Something in me was drawn to the carnage. Like so many women before me, I was a slave to the caveman brain, that deep old part of my DNA that whispered that ferocity would keep me safe and fed and alive and that I should most definitely find the fiercest creature around and hump it.
Delilah S. DawsonMots clés tish-everett
Let me guess. You think we’re going to live happily ever after, like some stupid fairy tale?”
“Why not?” His stare dared me to laugh or, worse, to argue.
“Because the whole thing is ridiculous,” I said. I despised the bitterness in my own voice. I sounded so damaged. Good. If he thought I was his soul mate for some mysterious reason he wouldn’t let on, let him see the worst of me.
“It’s not ridiculous to me. Perhaps that’s the difference between predators and prey, love. I’ll never stop hunting. But I expect that one day, you’ll stop running.”
“Because I want to die?”
“Because you want to live.
Mots clés romance vampires vampire criminy-stain tish-everett criminy-and-letitia letitia-and-criminy letitia-everett
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