Enigma Runyx Quotes

Because I was a man on the path to damnation and I saw salvation instead. Because being near you makes me feel something beyond rage. Because the chaos inside me quietens when I’m near you.” His words were shaking by the end of his sentence, his hands holding her possessively. “You’ve become my muse, little asp.

Death still was inevitable, but life was more beautiful somehow because of it.

Can I trust you not to destroy me?” The damn smirk twisted his lips. “Depends on the destruction.

She had looked like a goddess, a mystical creature hovering over the dead, come to life from the sea behind her. And in that one instant, she had become his muse.

I can do sexy a lot harder than you, little asp. Be careful what games you play with me.

Big Bookish Café, or BBC as students called it, lived up to its name.

She was off-limits again. She was his. And coming for her would make them all understand why'd they called him Death in prison.

Pact of trust for life? Let’s make it official.

Salem had never given any affection to herself, so how could she have expected the same from anyone else?

Salem had always thought nothing could beat death, that nothing could be immortal. She’d been wrong. Love, deep, true love, was immortal.

Killing you isn’t in the cards.” “Then what is?” “Possessing you,

She was moved. Moved down to her core at something so simple, something so many people in the world took for granted, something she had never experienced for herself before. Being seen.

a seductive combination. A corner of his mouth twitched. “Cute.” He tapped her nose with the pencil before moving it down her neck, this time not stopping at the edge of the shirt but going past it, curving over the rise of her right breast, which she became acutely aware of as the tip wandered closer and closer to her nipple, that was peaked and jutting like a beacon calling a ship home.

Stop thinking.” The words gave her brain pause. What did he mean by “stop thinking,” exactly? How did someone do that? Wasn’t that the main purpose of the brain, to figure things out? And how the hell did he know she was thinking? Who the hell did he think he was to tell her to stop thinking? “I can literally hear you screaming in your head,” he told her, his voice so soft, low in her ear, shooting straight up her auditory nerves and into her brain, creating that relaxed, fuzzy feeling in her it always did. “Give it a rest.

She had looked like a goddess, a mystical creature hovering over the dead, come to life from the sea behind her.

And in that one instant, she had become his muse.

A while ago, she would have waited for her parents to maybe correct her older sister and admonish her for calling her a freak. Not anymore. Now, she pretended to be grown-up and used words like “admonish” in her own head to fire back at everyone since the adults in her life didn’t really care to do so. It wasn’t even their fault, really. She understood by now how everyone had issues with someone prodding at dead animals and cutting them open to see their insides. Evidently, according to the books she read from the grown-up section of the library, children behaving in such a manner was usually a precedent of criminal behavior. “Precedent.” That was her new favorite word of the week.

Not-so-little Salem, at all of twelve years, found the consequence of death fascinating.

It was funny though. Opening dead bodies? Sure. Saying fuck in public? Absolutely not.

The Painter. That’s what she was calling him in her head now.

memento vivere. Remember to live.

He was her drug of choice, and she was delirious for him.

Because I was a man on the path to damnation and I saw salvation instead. Because being near you makes me feel something beyond rage. Because the chaos inside me quietens when I’m near you.

He had asked her to stay away and she had deliberately not. She’d thrown the gauntlet, and fuck him if he didn’t pick it up.

So a better memory replaces it. So that every time you come here, this is immediately what you think of rather than whatever terrifies you.” He nuzzled her neck, speaking against her skin. “I want to be the only villain you see. I want to be the only devil who drags you to hell.

Death was a curious thing. Planned or unplanned, mitigated or unmitigated, cruel or comfortable, it was the only universal truth that everyone lied about. Most adults she’d encountered spent their lives not thinking about it, trying to outrun it yet heading straight to it. She didn’t know if they realized what she had at such a young age—death was inevitable. It chased everyone from the moment of the first drawn breath and caught them at their last.

It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn. —Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

She felt zapped, her body humming a buzzing song she didn’t know, sensations coursing over her skin, leaving behind a wake of goose bumps and pebbled flesh.

Listen to me, and listen hard,” he told her seriously. “If you know what’s good for you, don’t follow me again. This is your second pass.

Caz van der Waal was an enigma, an unknown variable in her equation, an unsolved mystery, and she had always loved and hated those in equal measure.

She was intoxicating. And all he’d wanted to do had been to capture it, capture her terror, her transformation, her transcendence.

There was something to be said about a routine. A lull of settling in, the comfort of familiarity, the deep-seated appreciation for the predictable, a routine provided all of those things.

I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air. —Bram Stoker, Dracula

The mind is its own place, and in it self Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n. —John Milton, Paradise Lost

I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. —Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

she dragged in deep breaths full of him, letting it infuse her lungs, seep into her blood, ravish her whole body.

He leaned forward. “Next time you panic,” he murmured against the side of her head, his breath warm, smelling like mint and coffee, “I want to see it.

and leaned closer to whisper in her ear, pouring that voice straight into her veins like a shot of her favorite drug, converting her to an addict in the making.

Thank you,” she told Aditi sincerely, realizing she was genuinely thanking the second person today for something they had done for her. Maybe pigs were flying somewhere in the world after all.

No, he was the collision of control and chaos, blaze and brimstone and barbarism, hellfire and hedonism, a hades of his own underworld, and damn her if a part of her didn’t want to be the girl he brought into it.

She’s stronger than people give her credit for.

Climb that man like a tree and take him to pound town. He looks like he’ll show you a good time around.” “Orgasms are good stress relief,” Salem mused out loud, and Aditi began to laugh.

Salem prepared to leave. “I’m going back to the room to nap.” Aditi yawned. “Lucky bitch. Nap an hour extra for me too.

For some insane reason, her molecular structures responded to his, her pheromones to his, her heartbeats to his.

His nose returned to inhaling deeply, scenting her hair, and she felt a rumbling noise in his chest,

coming to a stop right at the crook of her neck and shoulder. He nuzzled the spot over the fabric, like a giant, rumbling beast holding its prey by the neck, petting the latter before opening his maw and eating it whole.

It’d be so easy right now, wouldn’t it?” he rasped against her ear, his lips touching the shell and sending shivers running marathons over the length of her body. “So easy to push you against his desk and fuck you raw.

He took the top of her turtleneck between his teeth, and inch by inch, second by second, heartbeat after heartbeat, pulled it down. Slowly. Torturously. Maddeningly. His lower lip brushed against her lip as he continued

And that’s exactly what he was doing. He was possessing her. Stroking her tongue with his, filling her with his venom, venom that penetrated her skin and went into her vessels, carrying it right to her heart, infecting it too until it pumped it out to spread all over her body, priming her for his possession.

But venom had never tasted better, like the mint and coffee she smelled on his breath, like the desire and deviance she saw in his eyes, like the sin and seduction she heard in his voice.

She felt herself become his vessel, eating the fruit in the form of his mouth, nipping, sucking, and binding herself to him for an eternity in his underworld.

She found his fire attractive, his mystery and his reputation, the way he watched her with that wild, deranged look and the way he consumed her like she was elixir and he was dying. She found him, all of him, attractive.

everything in proportion like an artist had painted him to rugged, masculine perfection.

You’re fucking soaked,” he spoke over her lips and she panted, biting his lip in response. “Has anyone owned this pussy before?

You’re fucking soaked,” he spoke over her lips and she panted, biting his lip in response. “Has anyone owned this pussy before?” “I’ve had sex before.” “I’m not talking about limp-dicked assholes who left you unsatisfied.

How do you know they didn’t satisfy me?” she mused out loud. His eyes darkened, pupils almost swallowing the grays whole. “Because they didn’t own your mind, not like I do.

He chuckled, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I own your mind. I’m going to own your body. And then, I’ll take your soul. Because you’re coming for mine, aren’t you? Mind, body, and soul. Now tell me, has anyone owned this pussy before?

Caz,” she pleaded, and heard him swear. “Beg me again, little asp,” he murmured over her lips. “Infect me with your poison.

Maybe they were both the poison. Maybe they were both the antidote. Maybe what they thought would infect them was going to cure them after all.

That’s a dangerous offer for someone like me, little asp. I could defile you, destroy you, damage you beyond repair. Do you want that?” She opened her eyes and locked gazes with him. “I want you.

You’re going to unman me.

He fell onto her like a starved beast.

I’m going to ravage you.

She wanted to be ruined, to be ravaged, to be absolutely railed.

He hadn’t left. He hadn’t left her alone.

She snuggled into him, fitting into his body like she’d been carved for it, his hardness and her softness mashing together and falling into place like puzzle pieces.

I own this pretty little mind of yours, Salem. I know the way you think.

She felt like rolling her eyes. Barbaric beast of a man.

Something had been off about him since the beginning, secrets surrounding him like shrouds, and learning one caused even more to rise from the ground, like ghosts being mass summoned on a dark night.

He let her, not saying a word, not accepting or rejecting her touch, just being as she was being, their bodies fused together, their breathing falling in sync, in and out, together as one.

She would take his annoying smirks any day over this agonized sorrow.

Caz took a quick shower and cleaned off, uncaring of the other man. His dick was bigger anyway.

Stay the fuck away from her,” he growled in his face, and the bastard laughed.

He did the hand thing she had seen women rave about online but never understood the fascination with. But watching him as he put one hand behind her headrest and spun the wheel with the other, his tattoos magnified somehow as he reversed into the spot with precision, Salem got it. It was hot.

So, did you find your muse?” “I did,” he confirmed,

I found my muse on a beach on a dark night,” he told her,

I found my muse on a beach on a dark night,” he told her, holding the back of her head, his eyes blazing. “And she was the most stunning creature I had ever seen, with living snakes in her hair and fire in her eyes, yet made of ice.

Little asp,” he murmured against her neck,

Hold me,” he demanded softly, and Salem immediately wrapped her arms around his neck,

If you keep staring,” he said without opening his eyes, somehow aware that she was looking at him, “you won’t be able to walk tomorrow without feeling me.

but for tonight, he was there, she was there, he was alive, she was alive, and they were going to live.

The sex was great, but it was the after that got to her, when he nuzzled her softly, petted her carefully, held her closely. In the aftermath, with their walls down, intimacy swirled between them.

I like how soft you are with me after being so rough. I like that you give me what I need, sexually and emotionally. These quiet moments, I like them.

He bopped her nose. “Look at you, melting for me.

Salem gave him a mock glare and he laughed, the sound rich and lustrous, filling the cracks inside her, a balm to her soul after everything that had happened.

Caz van der Waal was an enigma,

Who are you, again?” His eyes had heated at that, a wild glint coming into them. “Ask me again when your nipples aren’t begging for my mouth.

He was crass and crude and cruel.

The librarian was reading a racy bodice-ripper behind the large counter opposite the entrance.

Mortimer meant death.

The only point of life in her entire body was her eyes. Only those hypnotic, magical eyes. The only visible fire in her ice.

soft, vulnerable, empathetic, and so damn hurt it radiated from her until all he wanted to do was become her shell, so nothing and no one could ever hurt her again, not without going through him.

That smile fell like daggers in his chest. They were his. Her smiles. Her laughter. Her tears. Her noises. Everything.

He knew he was being unreasonable, but the idea, the sheer thought of another man seeing her softness made him see red. She was his, and it was time the world knew that.

The gold in hers, liquid, lustrous, luxurious, shimmered in the lights, and fuck if it didn’t hit him right in the solar plexus, right like it had since the first time he’d seen it directed at him in the darkness.

He continued drinking from her, a starved beast falling upon a feast, a lord of barren lands sipping from the lady of nectar, a man in the shadows dancing with a woman who knew darkness, claiming her mouth right out in the open for the world to see.

She was off-limits again. She was his. And coming for her would make them all understand why they’d called him Death in prison.

Her instincts sitting there had screamed for her to get up and run, knowing that he would catch her, and the lizard part of her brain had actually been aroused by the idea.

NDA: No Daddies Allowed (Only Issues). Hilarious.

his tattooed hand, the hand that had written his name in sin on her skin,