Sometimes, grief was like that-thoughtless, wordless, soundless. Sometimes, it was inexplicable, being pumped out by a cracked heart, infusing in the blood that went to every part of the body, mixing with the cells until it became as regular as breathing.
"Remember when I told you my heart was a dead scar tissue?"
"Hmm."
"I feel it pumping again with you. My lifeblood. My little rainbow."
🖤
"You know how a rainbow is made?"
Zephyr frowned. "When sunlight passes through a raindrop."
"My life has been nothing but gray for as long as I remember," he told her softly. "Rainstorms and thunder clouds that never went away. You filtered through that, all bright colors and exuberance and life. And the clouds are still there, but my eyes can't leave the rainbow long enough to see them. You changed things. And I'm not letting that go, Zephyr. I'm not letting you go. Get that out of your head right now."
(I love significances of nicknames 🖤)
He leaned closer, brushing her blue locks with his fingers. "I cut the hand of a man who touched your hair, Zephyr. What do you think I'm going to do to one you move on with?"
Her breath caught.
She hadn't anticipated this.
"I might not remember you," he whispered, "But you're my wife now. Mine. And I'd bathe this whole city in blood before I let you change that."
"You're my sunshine, lightening me up from the insides."
-Alpha Villanova
The blade came to her chin then, almost like his fingers always did, directing her focus back to himself.
"Who am I?" he demanded quietly, her face level with his waist, her eyes enraptured with his.
"What?"
"Who.am.I?"
She swallowed. "My husband."
"And who are you?"
"your wife."
"Mine."
With that one word, she was destroyed, decimated, done for, at the very public, very dominating claiming of her.
🖤
Alpha stepped away from the body, letting it drop down, his chest and arms covered in sweat and blood, and his eye on her. Knife in his hand, he jumped off the ring, searing her with his intensity to the point breathing became difficult, and strode toward her.
She tilted her head back as he stepped between her legs, close enough that her chin touched his thigh. He raised the knife and her eyes widened, not understanding what was happening.
Finally, he broke their gaze, his eye shifting to the side.
Zephyr turned to see Alec frozen in his seat, the knife under the wrist of his hand that had touched her hair, the edge of the blade pressing on it until she could see a line of blood break the skin.
Something was building, activating, like a volcano dormant from the outside, bubbling with lava, waiting for the right moment to erupt and cause destruction. She stood at the mouth of the volcano, watching the lava come forth from the mantle of the earth, knowing it could wreck her but waiting for it. She wanted to be the rain that fell upon the magma and sizzled, drenched it until it became rich. She wanted to seep down to his dried roots, nourish the soil of his heart, and fill him with life again.
"And in the end, we were all humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness."
-Christopher Poindexter
A laugh bubbled up in his chest, trapping itself in his throat as he looked out the window and heard her prattle on. The urge to smile, to try and lift the scarred side of his mouth, was a new sensation. And that was the other reason he'd wanted to assuage his curiosity, right there. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to smile before she jumped into his world, a burst of colorful explosions in the stark gray of his sky, a sprout of life blooming in the land of death, a festival in a field that had only witnessed funerals. And now that he'd experienced that, like an addict, he wanted more.
~Alpha
"I don't know how, rainbow," he murmured softly, "and I don't know what secrets of mine you have, but I want them all. You've sealed your fate now. Welcome to my hell."
🖤
"You're playing with the beast, little rainbow. I bite."
"I was hoping you would."
"I will scar you."
"I might want it."
🖤
"Be careful of the ways you offer yourself to me. They don't call me beast for nothing."
That was exactly who she wanted. "you're a twisted beast, I'm a twisted beauty. We're totally meant to be, handsome. It's written in the fairytales."
~The Finisher
🖤🌸
The dark in your soul is but a blemish. The dark in mine is an eclipse.
"Promise me something, Amara."
Amara opened her eyes to see the dark chocolate pools of his waiting for him to continue.
"If I ever lose my way, lose my soul to this place-" he told her, his eyes fierce-
"and become toxic to you or our children, promise me that you'll end me."
"Dante-"
"Promise me."
Her mouth trembled. "You won't. I won't let you."
He pressed his forehead to hers deeper, and they stayed silent. absorbing the dark drop of ink that swirled in their lives.
"You're my magnum opus, Amara," he told her, pressing his forehead against hers, a move that always brought the turmoil in him to a standstill. "And I'm your humble servant."
"No," she whispered, her words falling against his lips. "you are my emperor."
~The Emperor
🖤✨
In the moonlight, his dark eyes gleamed like uncut obsidian, born of flames, cooled in winds.
I know you keep wondering what your role will be order we have, Dante mused, looking at the boys. "You are a healer Amara. You are the lighthouse guiding these last souls to the shore.They need someone to guide them, someone who's
emotionally intelligent, strong enough to understand trauma and survival and still be light. That's you."
survival and still be light. That's you"
He turned his neck, piercing her with his dark eyes, his voice dripping with conviction. "We'll find more children, more young boys and girls, in different conditions. We don't know how many. They need to be rehabilitated. They'll need help- physically, which I can arrange, but also mentally, which is your forte. We can give them a chance at life Amara.--"
With his stubble that darkened his jaw, contrasting with his impeccably dressed body. Dante Maroni was a vision of masculine beauty and primitive badassery, with a dark gaze that missed nothing and a light smile that hid everything. He was contradictions and balances complimenting each other in one specimen, a slow, deceptive, undetectable poison to everyone except the people close to his heart. Small doses of him over the years had made her stronger, a resilient survivor.
"Marry me, Amara.
Be my wife, be my dirty girl, be mine. Give me your dreams and your nightmares, your pleasure and your pain, your fantasies and your fears. Give me everything. Be my queen outside, and my filthy firl inside."
And make me fucking yours, so everyone who looks at my ring knows I have you finally say yes, Amara."
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