Gleam Plated Prisoner Quotes

You’re not the villain in my story.” “I am,” he says without remorse, his sharp jaw tight with tension. “But I’ll be the villain for you. Not to you.

I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, Goldfinch. I was just waiting for you to catch up.

Shove down weakness, and strength will rise.

Love happens in all kinds of ways. Fast. Slow. In bits and pieces, or immediate. Filled with lust, one-sided longing, a snap realization never noticed before. Deeply. Thoroughly. Love is a whisper we didn’t hear or a sound that drums in our ears and drowns out everything else.

You can’t cut off the strings of your puppet and still expect it to move for you.

He may wear the crown, but I was the one who made it gold.

But I'll be the villain for you. Not to you.

But that's the curse of the survivors. We have to live with our dead.

You're going to find out just how far you can be pushed until you're tipped over. And when that happens, when you find your edge, just promise me one things. Don't fall. Fly." - King Slade Ravinger

My own good hated me, fought me, argued with me, but I didn’t care, because I watched her slowly come out of her shell, peeling back one layer at a time, and it was stunning.

Sometimes, you look at the silver lining so much that you drift into denial about the clouds.

Though, it seems to me that trying and failing is better than giving up.

The world taught me that things could always be worse. I learned to always look up, to take what I could get, to settle. I became too blinded by my bright sides to see the truth. Sometimes, you look at the silver lining so much that you drift into denial about the clouds.

... You can't reason with feelings. They do what they want, forcing you to endure.

I don’t choose him. Not anymore. I’m choosing me.

because there it is. The ugly truth that he never wanted me to know: that power doesn’t just come from magic. It comes from your own grit. And I have both.

I stare at him, not in fear, but in recognition as the beast in me rises up and answers to the beast inside him.

There comes a point in your life when you have to choose between having regrets and the possibility of making mistakes. I’d rather make those mistakes than live without ever taking a chance, because I’ve missed out on too much already. Taking chances can be like walking through a mudslide, where every inch of you gets stained, but regrets are the stagnant pools of deprivation, and I’ve been wading in them for far too long.

That’s the thing about escapism. In whatever form, it always ends, and then we’re forced back into a reality that’s not nearly as satisfying.

If only we could stop competing, stop the petty jealousies, stop letting men pit us against one another. Imagine what women could do if we started being loyal to each other?

The blindfold has been ripped from my sight. Now, my heart doesn’t squeeze. My stomach doesn’t flutter. He broke something inside of me far more than just my heart. He broke my will. My drive. My voice. He broke down my very spirit, and I let him.

Careful," he says, baring his teeth in a wicked smile. "There's a saying about rocks and glass houses." "I don't live in glass, I live in gold. So I can throw whatever damn rocks I want," I snap.

Truths are like spices. When you add some in, it means you have more layers to digest. You get a taste of things you were missing before. But if you add too many, life can become unpalatable. But when those truths are repressed for too long, when you realize you've grown accustomed to the bland lies, there's no hope of removing the overpowering taste from your tongue.

Men ruin all of women’s best laid plans.

Why is it that a man can make you feel like nothing, when you have given him everything?

She settles my magic, calms my anger, calls to my fae nature. She’s a burst of light in my dark, erupting life in the rotting depths of my soul.  She is everything I don’t deserve.  But I’m going to keep her anyway.

Guilt doesn’t assuage the guilty.

But I’ll curtsy for you instead, Your Moldering Majesty.

The golden satin slams into Midas’s face, feathers bending around his head with a satisfying thump. Juvenile, sure. But it does wonders for my morale.

But they have a lot of secrets. For one, they know Rip is fae, and now, they know I am too. I can’t even begin to try and untangle the repercussions of that, the what-ifs.

It’s like he’s worshipping my body, kneeling in supplication with earnest faith in the skill of his divinely decadent tongue

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. The silence, the scrutiny, the confessions lying at my feet like plucked fruit left to rot. “Are you going to say anything? I just admitted that I want you, and you’re just standing there.” Slade blinks. “I was processing.

I’m glad you’re choosing you,” he says quietly, and my lips part, like I want to swallow the rumble of his cadence. “You are?” I go completely still as he moves his hand and grips my chin, like he wants to make sure I’m paying attention. I am. “Yes, Goldfinch. Because I’m choosing you, too.

Stop with the dramatics, Auren. Stop with this rebellion. It doesn’t suit you.” “No, the problem is that it doesn’t suit you.

She is everything I don’t deserve. But I’m going to keep her anyway.

You challenged me to be more than what I’ve been made into. You showed me how to see the world without my blindfold.

You’re not the villain in my story.” “I am,” he says without remorse, his sharp jaw tight with tension. “But I’ll be the villain for you. Not to you.

Now, I know that I was a girl clinging to my own stagnancy, because I was terrified of being thrown back into the world that had abused me.

Dear John was a yawn But his trousers hung tight, So the frills would all smile And ask him home for a night, But poor frills, how they trilled— For it was only a pocket of pipe.

You're good to me, Mustard." Judd grimaces and rubs at his mustard-seed hair. "it's not, that yellow." I cock a brow. "Listen, I'm gold, okay? Don't whine to me.

We tell ourselves twisted lies to tangle around our wicked truths, all so that we can get caught up in the bind and not have to face bare regrets.

I want all of you,” he tells me, a newfound hunger in the depths of his green eyes that stirs heat beneath my skin. “Every piece, every memory, every minute, every inch. This isn’t going to be some casual dalliance. This isn’t going to be temporary. I want you soul, mind, and body. I want your trust and your thoughts. I want your past, your present, your future. So make very certain that you want me for the right reasons. Be certain that you’re choosing this, because once you do, there’s no turning back.

But I could’ve gilded you,” I repeat. “Then you’d be a statue stuck right here on the stairwell, and I don’t think gold’s your color, Commander.”  “I disagree. Gold has quickly become my favorite.

All my life, men have had me, but I have never had a man.

Your heartbeat..." "What about it?" His tone is hoarse, breath gone ragged. "It sounds like mine.

Just lie there. Just lie there and chip away, little by little. Just lie there and feel yourself die from the inside out.

But I’ll be the villain for you. Not to you.

There comes a point in your life when you have to choose between having regrets and the possibility of making mistakes.

She never asked what happened, and I didn’t offer up the information. But she knows. Women always do.

But that’s the curse of the survivors. We have to live with our dead.

If Midas ever loved me at all, he buried it beneath his love for gold and the love for himself. Buried it so deep that he doesn’t even remember what he covered.

I’m glad for the anger I see on his face. Misery may love company, but anger thrives on it.

Rip sighs and scrubs his hands down his face in a rare crack of his stony facade. “You’re overreacting.

Love happens in all kinds of ways. Fast. Slow. In bits and pieces, or immediate. Filled with lust, one-sided longing, a snap realization never noticed before.

Between life and death. Then, with a raindrop on my cheek that might have spilled from my eye, I open the door and walk into the inn. And I die, just a little bit more.

You forced truths out of me while concealing yourself. You don’t think that’s hypocritical?

Don’t,” I whisper. “I won’t let him make you into the villain.” A gaze as sharp as thorns hooks into me, holds me hostage. “I told you, I’ll be the villain for you.” Resolve bolsters my spine. “Yes. But so will I.

And yet, even though that beast is once again silent, I can still feel it there, watching. Some untapped creature ready to rise up. I go still at that thought, and an old memory slithers forward. Shove down weakness, and strength will rise.

There's an internal compass inside of me that laid still for so long, stuck behind its arc of glass, listless and without hope. But it's been spinning since the moment I left, begging me to follow my instincts. To move toward something better.

She laughs, the sound like music to my ears,

Prove it, I told him.  He didn’t.

That's the thing about escapism. In whatever form, it always ends, and then we're forced back into a reality that's not nearly as satisfying.

When you feel responsible for death...that stays with you. It sticks to the soles of your feet every time you take a step.

I don’t know when it happened exactly, but it seems a darkness has sprouted inside of me, nurtured from the cruel soil I was left to wither in.

Your anger is misplaced, but I like it,” he says with a feral grin, sharp canines gleaming. “Every time you let it leak out just a little bit more, I can see you better, Goldfinch.

The vitriol that spews from my mouth flares hotter than any fire. May it burn him as badly as he has burned me.

Fury catches from the sparks, makes my eyes narrow in a squint. He expects me to falter beneath the threat, but instead, I burn hotter. “Touch them, and I’ll touch you.

He made me suffer for years. He took away my control. Now, it’s time I take it back.

Oh, I’m certain,” he replies. “I chose you the moment you called me a prick, and your ribbons tried to knock me on my ass”.

The moment he laid hands on her, I wanted to lay hands on him. But I didn’t need to. I’m so fucking proud of her.

I don’t give a fish-frying shit

Oh, them? I rotted them a little.

If females were meant to have their waists strangled and breasts shoved up all damn day, we would’ve been born with corset ribs.

Because your golden king is coming. I think I’ll stay and say hello.

She's a burst of light in my dark, erupting life in the rotting depths of my soul. She's everything I don't deserve. But I'm going to keep her anyway.

You’re very floppy.” I rest my head against his firm, muscled chest. “You’re very hard,” I counter. A rich, dark laugh slips from his mouth. “You’ve no idea.

What does it say, do you think, about a male who keeps a woman in a cage?

She is everything I don’t deserve.  But I’m going to keep her anyway.

Come back to me, Goldfinch.

Great Divine, that smirk.

He’s mine.” My voice is strong, unwavering. Just a vicious growl of protective fury.

this is her quiet goodbye.

What if I just maim him a bit?

I chose you the moment you called me a prick, and your ribbons tried to knock me on my ass.

You’re very floppy.”  I rest my head against his firm, muscled chest. “You’re very hard,” I counter.  A rich, dark laugh slips from his mouth. “You’ve no idea.

I knew she could burn brighter than the sun if she only stepped out of his shade. But fuck. Even my faith in her strength didn’t match up to just how magnificent she really is. That’s my girl.

Because the world will keep on trying to leash me, men will continue trying to steer me in their grips of control. So I can’t just roll over every time. I can’t let that repressed temper of indignation sit stuck on that perch.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself, forcefully shoving away all my emotions into a little box where I can slam the lid closed. There’s no room for distractions. I have to cauterize the pieces of my bleeding heart, because I have plans to make.

I’m an oddity, a commodity, a rumor. I’m the king’s favored. His prized saddle. The one he gold-touched and keeps in a cage at the top of his castle, my body bearing the mark of his ownership and favoritism. The gilded pet. I’m the darling of King Midas, ruler of Highbell and the Sixth Kingdom of Orea. People flock to see me just as much as they come to look upon his gleaming castle worth more than all the riches in the entire realm. I’m the gold-plated prisoner. But what a pretty prison it is.

Before, I would’ve melted at this. I would’ve leaned forward like a flower bending in his presence. But I don’t curl into his touch, and my lips don’t lift up in a forgiving smile. My lashes don’t flutter closed, and a sigh doesn’t pass my lips. Because...it’s too late.

You stood there and kissed me and tried to make me choose you, when I didn’t even know the real you at all,” I say, voice gone flat as I look back up at him. “You made me feel like the worst person in the world for choosing him, even though I warned you over and over again that I had to.

don’t like these feelings gathering around me. I want to hold onto my anger, to use it to help me push him away. The air between us has grown thicker, like we’ve passed the first line of trees and moved deeper into the woods. It’s so congested with branches and brambles that I can’t get through it without being scratched.

Love happens in all kinds of ways. Fast. Slow. In bits and pieces, or immediate. Filled with lust, one-sided longing, a snap realization never noticed before. Deeply. Thoroughly. Love is a whisper we didn’t hear or a sound that drums in our ears and drowns out everything else.” Slade edges toward me, though I barely notice

I can look back one day and remember that I stood here, in the heart of an icicle kingdom, with a frosted city at my feet and a shivering sky at my cheeks. This is so much better than a cage. ⁣ A smile plays about my lips as I breathe in the breeze. I think this is what it must be like for a bird before it lets out its wings and flies.

I want all of you,” he tells me, a newfound hunger in the depths of his green eyes that stirs heat beneath my skin. “Every piece, every memory, every minute, every inch. This isn’t going to be some casual dalliance. This isn’t going to be temporary. I want you soul, mind, and body. I want your trust and your thoughts. I want your past, your present, your future.

I’m saying that you are my own good.  And for you, I gave you a choice.  But you chose him. My tongue drags against my lips, like I might still get a lingering taste. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the feel of him or ever lose the thrill I felt when he looked me in the eye and told me that he was choosing me. It makes my heart feel so hopeful and yet so damn terrified too.

We all have our edge, Auren. One day, you're going to find where yours is." The darkness of his essence brushes against my skin like a whisper's caress. "You're going to find out just how far you can be pushed until you're tipped over. And when that happens, when you find your edge, just promise me one thing." My voice comes out like a croak, a single tear dashing down. "What?" "Don't fall." Time stands still as he leans in and places a kiss on my temple, lips turning to whisper into my ear. "Fly."

I’ll take her.” We both flinch as a soldier suddenly appears beside us, like she materialized out of the shadows. For a second, I’m so stunned to see a woman soldier that all I can do is openly gape at her. She’s dressed in black and brown leathers, a sword at her hip, and a cocksure expression. She has beautiful, smooth dark skin like umber, warm undertones that bloom at the apples of her cheeks. Her black hair is cut short against her scalp, and it’s been shaved in intricate designs. At first, I think the designs are pointed petals, but when I look closer, I see that they’re actually sharp daggers shorn around her head like a crown, tips pointing up. “Who are you?” I ask, my gaze lured to the small piercing above her upper lip. The shard of wood fits perfectly into the middle of her cupid’s bow, topped with a tiny, gleaming red gemstone.

My own good was stuck on a pirate ship, with an aura like a beacon that flared across the Barrens,’ he grits out, a thick spun voice meant to tie knots around me. ‘My own good was cowering before men who were nothing – fucking nothing – in comparison to her.’ All of my ability to breathe is gone as I stare at him in shock. ‘My own good hated me, fought me, argued with me, but I didn’t care, because I watched her slowly come out of her shell, peeling back one layer at a time, and it was stunning.’ He raises the finger in front of my face. ‘I got one touch. One taste, and if it was an act of selfishness, then you should know, it certainly wasn’t one-sided, Auren.’ I can’t blink. I can’t think. ‘What…what are you saying?’ My chest heaves with the breathless question, like undulating waves in an uncertain sea. I might drown in the depths of his bottomless eyes. His teeth snap together, as if my uncertainty sets him on edge. ‘I’m saying that you are my own good. And for you, I gave you a choice, but you chose him.

All my life, men have had me, but I have never had a man.’ The barest of breaths sucks in through his teeth. A stillness passing between us like a fragile pane of glass. ‘I am no man.’ ‘No. You’re more,’ I agree. ‘Because no matter what I do, you cling to my skin and borrow into my conscience, and as angry as I am at you for that, I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. I am sick to death of repression. Of denial. Of holding back. After twenty damn years, I don’t wanna tell myself no.’ ‘So don’t,’ he says, practically cursing the word. ‘What do you want, Auren? Admit to me what you really want.’ There’s an internal compass inside of me that laid still for so long, stuck behind its arc of glass, listless and without hope. But it’s been spinning since the moment I left Highbell, begging me to follow my instincts. To move toward something better. It’s time I start following that compass. I just didn’t expect for it a point to him. My pulse pounds and my hands tremble, because when denial drains out of you, it leaves you shaken and scared. What are we without our white lies and protective walls? I’m laid bare, heart raw and vulnerabilities wrenched open, thoroughly ruined while somehow feeling inexplicably right. Which is why I let that last wall tumble down when I look Slade in the eye and say, ‘You, Slade. I want you.