Phantasma Quotes

In a different life, in a fair one, I would've kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust

In all the darkness, in all the loneliness, you have been my one source of light,” he lamented as she began to come undone. “My soul will go to its grave with your name echoing in my mind.

I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.

You came.” “You called,

My soul will go to its grave with your name echoing in my mind.

I told you before that nothing would ever stop me from getting to you if you needed me, and that will remain true forevermore. I would tear the universe apart at its seams if I must.

I will find a way to haunt you until every single one of your inner demons looks like me.

That’s not how things work, angel. Life is not measured in good or bad thoughts—it’s how you treat the world around you despite them.

The dark is for people who are too cowardly to face their actions in the light,

You don’t need to fix yourself. You’re not broken. But it’s okay to get outside help if it gets too loud.

and then you found me. Because it seems that’s what we do. We find each other.

I’d let you drag me to the depths of Hell right now if that would please you.

A house of Devils is no place for an angel like you.

To those who’ve had to claw their way out of the dark and still choose to be a light in this world⁠— I’m proud of you.

Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.

In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust.

Fall in love within Phantasma at your own risk.

In all the darkness, in all the loneliness, you have been my one source of light,

Please, darling, call me Sin.

There are times that you’re afraid of yourself, but you’ll look a Devil right in the eye and insult them.

A shame, too. I feel robbed of my first time laying eyes on you.

Ophelia I… I am so fucking in love with you. I think I fell in love with you when you asked me how you could help me that first time we met. Prince of the Devils, and you wanted to save me. Maybe, somehow, I knew then that you could be the one to set me free. And I meant what I said that night, that you should hope we never met again, and I fucking hate that this is what it’s coming down to. But… every single second I’ve spent with you has reminded me what it’s like to be alive. And I would trade every other soul in the world if it meant I would get to keep you forever.

I want to know everything. I want to see all the darkest corners of your mind.

You’re doing such a good job,” he encouraged. “Eyes up for me, angel.

Soft hearts don’t survive here.” “What kinds of hearts do?” He leaned down until their eyes were level. “Hearts with teeth.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin in his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her full, bottom lip. She was frozen in place. “C’mon, angel, show me your teeth.

Never feel bad for bleeding, Ophelia. Her mother’s voice came back to her now. Bleeding means you’re alive.

All the people who only do good deeds because of what that might gain them in the afterlife are no better than those who indulge in a little sin every once in a while.

That’s right,” he purred. “Just say the word, sweetheart. If you don’t ask me to touch you, I won’t.

If there were ever a divine entity I'd worship," he murmured, "it'd be you." "My body, your alter," she offered.

That’s my good girl,

I want to know everything. I want to see all the darkest corners of your mind.” He tilted his face up to whisper his next words right into her ear. “I want to taste your sins.

Firstly, let me reintroduce myself.” He dipped his head in a formal bow. “My name is Salemaestrus Erasmus Blackwell, Prince of the Devils. But you, angel, may call me Salem.

I say this sincerely,” Ophelia spoke, curling a lip in disgust at Cade. “You need an exorcism.

I am not your angel, but I will be your nightmare.

Death she was familiar with. Living would be the real challenge.

She tilted her head. “Is that all you want to do to me?” “Not even close,” he growled. “I’m going to devour your pussy and drink every sweet drop you give me. Then I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you can think or speak is my name. I’m going to make sure I bury myself so deep inside of you that neither of us will be able to tell where I end and you begin.

You came." "You called.

There were two golden rules their mother had taught them about roaming New Orleans after dark: the first was that if the dark looks at you, you never look back. That was a surefire way to be caught by a Devil.

Because it seems that’s what we do. We find each other.

I told you, I’ll always come. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.

A heart and a key would set me free,” it said. “But you should hope we do not meet again, angel.

You are the closest thing I will ever get to experiencing heaven, and I’m not ready to let it go.

If you thought that was your threshold of pleasure—imagine being worshipped by the real thing.

You get so fucking wet for me,” he said, his voice becoming gruff as his own arousal grew. “I love how excited your body gets for me.” His grip on the back of her thighs tightened. “I know you want my cock inside of you, angel. Be a good girl and say the word.

You don’t get it,” she whispered. “No one gets it. They only judge. The girl who has to tap on walls before she leaves a room—or everyone she’s ever talked to will die. The girl who can’t run a simple errand because a dark thought popped into her head that something catastrophic would happen if she left the house that day. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to satisfy the voice long enough to get a break from having to listen to every single sin I’ve ever committed on repeat.

Go home,” the stranger advised. “A house of Devils is no place for an angel like you.

if the dark looks at you, you never look back.

Are you sure you want me to tell you?” He shifted until their lips were practically touching. “Or would you like me to show you instead?

The problem with secrets was that they festered and tore open wounds that were starting to scab.

October 23: Phantasma, the Devil’s Manor, arrives in New Orleans

Life is not measured in good or bad thoughts—it’s how you treat the world around you despite them. All the people who only do good deeds because of what that might gain them in the afterlife are no better than those who indulge in a little sin every once in a while.

Ophelia, don’t⁠—” “I love you,” she whispered.

I thought I told you not to follow me?” “I apologize if I gave you the impression that I do what I’m told.” His tone was anything but apologetic.

She buried her face into the crook of his throat. “You came.” “You called,” he answered.

In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust,” he vowed to her.

Men are always useless,” she growled to them both, half-exasperated,

Is this your attempt at flirting, angel?” he choked out despite the pressure she was putting on his neck. Her lip curled up in disgust. “Both of my hands are wrapped around your throat!” “That doesn’t make it any clearer,

When the Hell is this thing going to start so all of you can shut the fuck up?” the woman with the septum piercing muttered from her corner.

If only,” she whispered. “Besides, if all of my inner demons were destroyed, there wouldn’t be much left of me.

told you before that nothing would ever stop me from getting to you if you needed me, and that will remain true forevermore. I would tear the universe apart at its seams if I must.

I’ve had a lover,” she interrupted before he could jump to any conclusions. “But he never made me do that.” “Then he was useless and a waste of your time,

You know what they say. Come to Hell—we may have Devils and Demons, but at least your hair won’t get frizzy.

taking care of yourself first is not a sin. You understand that, right?

If there were ever a divine entity I’d worship,” he murmured, “it’d be you.” “My body, your altar,” she offered.

All these things, realities full of phantasma, phantasmagoria full of realities, had eventually created in him an inner state of a kind that was almost indescribable.

What a phantasmagoria the mind is and meeting-place of dissemblables!” ― Virginia Woolf, Orlando

The thought of wasting another second when I will lose you forever in only three days has ruined me. You are the closest thing I will ever get to experiencing heaven, and I’m not ready to let it go.

Das ist ein Fazit, in dem der Satz steht: Meine Rebellion war die Anpassung. Nicht an eine Erwartung, wie man in Deutschland als Migrant zu sein hatte, aber auch nicht bewusst dagegen. Mein Widerstreben richtete sich gegen die Fetischisierung von Herkunft und gegen das Phantasma nationaler Identität. Ich war für das Dazugehören. Überall, wo man mich haben und wo ich sein wollte. Kleinsten gemeinsamen Nenner finden: genügte.

Listen, if you need to punch a wall to relieve yourself from whatever insidious voice is in your head, I’m not going to judge you. That is one of the least strange things I’ve ever come across in Phantasma, I assure you.” He narrowed his eyes. “But letting yourself believe you’ve done something so sinful that you deserve to be in pain is another sentiment altogether. And if you’re upset about what may have happened to the others in that trial… taking care of yourself first is not a sin. You understand that, right?

It is at night, especially when the moon is gibbous and waning, that I see the thing. I tried morphine; but the drug has given only transient surcease, and has drawn me into its clutches as a hopeless slave. So now I am to end it all, having written a full account for the information or the contemptuous amusement of my fellow-men. Often I ask myself if it could not all have been a pure phantasm—a mere freak of fever as I lay sun-stricken and raving in the open boat after my escape from the German man-of-war. This I ask myself, but ever does there come before me a hideously vivid vision in reply. I cannot think of the deep sea without shuddering at the nameless things that may at this very moment be crawling and floundering on its slimy bed, worshipping their ancient stone idols and carving their own detestable likenesses on submarine obelisks of water-soaked granite. I dream of a day when they may rise above the billows to drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war-exhausted mankind—of a day when the land shall sink, and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium.

I can't stand it," he told her, his voice deepening as he fought for control of his emotions. "I can't fucking stand the thought of him -of anyone- pleasuring you except me. I'd rather cease to exist that know you've looked at anyone else the way you look at me when I'm touching you.

Then Blackwell solidified himself completely. “Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.” Cade gawked at the sight of Blackwell’s tall frame, but his expression quickly soured as he spat, “Incredible, even Demons have whores⁠—” Blackwell grabbed Cade’s wrist and twisted his arm until he screeched in agony. “Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.

I think you might be the closest to heaven I’ll ever get,” he whispered.

Souls that are dead cannot cross roses of red, her mother had always chanted.

I can only imagine death is more kind than you.

vulgar gesture

As much as she hated to admit it, she craved confirmation when she did something well.

Tell me, Blackwell,” Genevieve said in a saccharine tone. Warning bells immediately sounded off in Ophelia’s head.

The dark is for people who are too cowardly to face their actions in the light,” she automatically responded. It had been something her mother often said.

The audacity of men worth less than dirt.

Blackwell, Blackwell, Blackwell,

If there were ever a divine entity I’d worship,” he murmured, “it’d be you.

All her life, all she had wanted was peace. To be fixed. To not be a burden on those she loved most.

Yes,” he confirmed with amusement. “You can summon me any time you want. The morning. The afternoon. The middle of the night…

never ever make any deals with a Devil. Not unless you wanted to lose your soul.

Devils loved to play at being human to lower mortals’ defenses.

The trial then presents you with an illusion of the person you lust after most,

Blackwell, Blackwell, Blackwell,” she recited in a rush.

it smelled like him. Vanilla and tobacco.

Have I ever told you how much I adore a woman who isn’t afraid to get her hands bloody?

As it turns out, I don’t like being choked,” she muttered. Blackwell shrugged. “Not by metal collars at least.

I never let pain get the better of me. I'd much rather let it bring me clarity.

Ophelia," he repeated, tasting every syllable. Her name on his tongue sounded like a wicked prayer. "You are exactly the person I've been looking for.

I like to say the idea of Phantasma came to me all at once, hitting me like a ton of bricks one cloudy afternoon in November 2021, but truly, my experience with obsessive-compulsive disorder has been building to this story for a very long time. During the process of brainstorming the sort of adult romance I wanted to debut with, I was going through a period where my obsessive-compulsive tendencies were flaring up more than usual and the voices in my head were getting a little too bold. To my friends, these compulsions were alarming little anecdotes over lunch—‘that sounds like a horror movie’ one of them said (affectionately)—which is funny because, to me, someone who has lived with OCD my entire life, it was just another day of being unfazed by the increasingly creative scenarios my mind likes to conjure. OCD has such a wide range of symptoms that it makes every person’s experience with it different. Unfortunately, it has also become a commonly misused term conflated with the idea of being overly neat and clean, when in reality a lot of people with OCD have much darker symptoms. In my experience this has made explaining the real effects of OCD very hard as well as making it more difficult for people to regard the condition seriously. It’s so important to me to convey, with the utmost sincerity, that I know people are not doing this to be malicious! Because of the misuse of the term, however, some of the ways this disorder is shown in this book may come off as exaggerated or dramatic—but the details of Ophelia’s OCD are drawn directly from experiences that I, or someone I know who shares my condition, have had first-hand. And it’s still only a fraction of the symptoms we live with daily. Ophelia’s story is a love letter to my journey of getting comfortable being in my own head (as well as my adoration for Gothic aesthetics and hot ghosts). And while her experience with OCD, my experience with OCD, might look a lot different to someone else’s, I hope that the same message rings clear: struggling with your mental health does not make you unworthy of love. And I hope the people you surround yourself with are the sort of people who know that, too.

Whenever?” She lifted a brow. “So, if I want you at my beck and call every second of the day⁠—?” “Yes,” he confirmed with amusement. “You can summon me any time you want. The morning. The afternoon. The middle of the night…

Maybe we should just start with the basics. What’s your favorite color?” He lifted a brow at the mundane question but reached out with the hand that wasn’t propping him up and tugged at the tail of the velvet ribbon tied in her hair. “Red.” The ribbon perfectly matched the rest of her ensemble: a high-collared, scarlet chemise with long gossamer sleeves that puffed at her shoulders and tapered then flared at her wrists, beneath a black velvet corset.

Ophelia couldn’t help but wonder if she was wildly unprepared to assimilate into normal society without their mother as her guide. Death she was familiar with. Living would be the real challenge.

The men carried on a conversation about cars for the next ten minutes, possibly the dullest conversation Ophelia had ever heard in her life,

A woman, middle-aged, with dull brown hair, leaned out the carriage window. “Hello… I have an appointment. At eight o’clock—with Tessie Grimm. This is her residence, correct?” Genevieve looked the woman square in the eye. “She’s dead.

If you don’t get home in five minutes, Grimm Manor will crumble to the ground, the Shadow Voice whispered in her head. Her shoulders tensed at the challenge. Five minutes wasn’t enough time. And it didn’t matter that she knew, logically, it was not possible for her to cause such a travesty with only her thoughts, yet she picked up speed. Nothing is going to happen if I don’t make it back within five minutes, she chastised herself. The Shadow Voice isn’t real. But it didn’t matter how many times she told herself that. The intrusive thoughts always managed to make a traitor of her own mind.

It was to lure me into trusting them,” she realized. Then muttered, “To think I thought this trial would lead to something a lot sexier than fighting an imposter version of you and drinking blood.” “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed you didn’t get to live out a wild illusion of another nature?” He started to scoff, before pausing thoughtfully and saying, “Actually, do tell. I’m desperate to know what sort of wicked fantasies live in your head.

Your face might be able to be replicated, but your ego can’t. What if I had said it was the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known?” The mischievous glint in his eyes was back in full force as he leaned down. “If you thought that was your threshold of pleasure—imagine being worshipped by the real thing.

The Devil had a wicked mouth and a voice as smooth as bourbon.

Actually, do tell. I’m desperate to know what sort of wicked fantasies live in your head.

Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.

You can do anything you want, angel,” he inserted, voice gruff. “I’d let you drag me to the depths of Hell right now if that would please you.

She took a deep breath and finally nodded. “We have a deal. Make the bargain.

I never let pain get the better of me, Genevieve’s voice pierced through her panic. I’d much rather let it bring me clarity.

Well, he clearly doesn’t have a brain if he threw away his opportunity with you,” Ophelia commented. Genevieve snorted. “That’s alright. I fucked his best friend on the back of the float as revenge.

Are you offering? Because my answer would be yes,” Rayea purred, making Ophelia pause, hand on the doorknob. “It’s been a while after all.

So again. Who did that to you?

I want to taste your sins.

In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust,” he vowed to her. Then he was gone.

That’s not how things work, angel. Life is not measured in good or bad thoughts—it’s how you treat the world around you despite them. All the people who only do good deeds because of what that might gain them in the afterlife are no better than those who indulge in a little sin every once in a while.

After all, her mother had always warned her not to make deals with Devils, but never told her anything about making them with Ghosts…

Ophelia fought the urge to roll her eyes at the pure drama.

I don’t care if you’re already dead,” she hissed. “I’m going to kill you again.” “Is this your attempt at flirting, angel?” he choked out despite the pressure she was putting on his neck. Her lip curled up in disgust. “Both of my hands are wrapped around your throat!” “That doesn’t make it any clearer,” he responded, blinking out from beneath her and letting her fall forward on her hands.

He smelled faintly of vanilla and tobacco, and it irked her greatly that she found it to be a delicious combination.

Tell me what I said exactly,” he urged.

I want to know everything. I want to see all the

You are exactly the person I’ve been waiting for.

No. There is no before in my mind. I remember every contestant I’ve worked with, and every city we’ve traveled to, but nothing outside of Phantasma’s competitions. A shame, too. I feel robbed of my first time laying eyes on you.

You need to knock on the headboard, it told her. Three sets of threes. Then name the people you want to keep safe through the night. Or they’ll all die. Every last one.

Something about it had always deeply embarrassed her. To be at the mercy of knocking on her headboard or wall or doing whatever other ridiculous tasks the voice demanded of her just so it would shut up and she could sleep without the ominous blanket of existential dread. “I was pleasing my inner demons,” she finally said, only half joking. “Anything I can do to vanquish them, so you can go to sleep?” he offered.

And she absolutely, desperately, wanted to tell her sister about the mind-blowing way he touched her, how intoxicating his kisses were and how one erotic encounter with the Ghost made her realize that maybe she wasn’t broken after all. The complete opposite of how Elliott had made her feel during their brief affair.

Unless you want this to go in a much different direction, I wouldn’t do that again,” he admonished. She blushed. “Tilt your head for me, sweetheart,” he requested, voice still gruff.

but the way Blackwell was looking at her right now eradicated any thought of self-consciousness from her mind.

The second rule was that if you did break the first, never ever make any deals with a Devil. Not unless you wanted to lose your soul.

The Shadow Voice…” she whispered. “It won’t stop unless I do what it says.

I don’t know,” she finally answered, sniffing. “Sometimes, I think it’s me. All the bad parts of me. But the things it tells me to do… I know I would never want those things. I hate it.

Ophelia.” His tone was firm now. “You don’t need to fix yourself. You’re not broken. But it’s okay to get outside help if it gets too loud.

I can’t fucking stand the thought of him—of anyone—pleasuring you except me. I’d rather cease to exist than know you’ve looked at anyone else the way you look at me when I’m touching you.

I’m going to devour your pussy and drink every sweet drop you give me. Then I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you can think or speak is my name. I’m going to make sure I bury myself so deep inside of you that neither of us will be able to tell where I end and you begin.

Firstly, let me reintroduce myself.

There was a pregnant pause

Ophelia opened her mouth to comment on the state of the room, but shrieked instead. The bloody Ghoul was dragging itself into the bathroom. She stumbled back a step—right into Blackwell’s surprisingly hard body. His muscles were even more toned than she had imagined they’d be. She felt his chest vibrate with quiet laughter against her back as he leaned his mouth down to her ear and drawled, “Watch this.

Angel, you have not seen even a modicum of what I am capable of,” he told her, his green eyes flickering down her figure with an emotion she couldn’t quite catch before turning more serious. “And what key?

He leaned down until their eyes were level. “So, maybe I don’t want to just be a distraction to you.

I think you might be the closest to heaven I’ll ever get,

a crude gesture.

if all of my inner demons were destroyed, there wouldn’t be much left of me.

You came.” “You called,” he answered.

Have I ever told you how much I hate living in a city so humid?” “Almost constantly.” “It always destroys my curls,” Genevieve griped as if Ophelia hadn’t spoken. “Hell must be less humid than this.

Ophelia snorted. “You know what they say. Come to Hell—we may have Devils and Demons, but at least your hair won’t get frizzy.

back and laughed. Her lips curled, aghast. “How in the Hell can you drink this stuff?” “You learn to tolerate it,” he

She’d much rather focus on her rage.

Between the initial conception of a dreadful deed and the acting upon it (according to a barbarian who was not devoid of genius), all the interim is like a phantasma or a hideous dream.[*6] For hours and hours, Lucia had been lying in the grips of just such a dream. Even Agnese, the author of the plan, was lost in thought, struggling to find the words to comfort her daughter. Yet at the moment of awakening, at the moment, in other words, for the deed to be done, the spirit finds itself wholly transformed. The struggle between terror and courage is succeeded by a new terror and new courage: The deed enters the mind like a wholly new apparition. Sometimes the things that had seemed most frightening suddenly become easy: At other times the obstacle that had been barely noticed appears larger than ever. The imagination retreats in dismay. The limbs refuse to obey. And courage falls short of the promises it had made so confidently.

She had always adored the way he spoke her name. Like a wicked prayer.

You’re so beautiful. It’s quite irritating.” “I know,

she whispered a demand to the dark the one that would seal her fate forever

Hello, angel,” a deep velvet voice greeted her. Blackwell stepped into the ring of light.

His face became serious once more. “Ophelia I… I am so fucking in love with you. I think I fell in love with you when you asked me how you could help me that first time we met. Prince of the Devils, and you wanted to save me. Maybe, somehow, I knew then that you could be the one to set me free. And I meant what I said that night, that you should hope we never met again, and I fucking hate that this is what it’s coming down to. But… every single second I’ve spent with you has reminded me what it’s like to be alive. And I would trade every other soul in the world if it meant I would get to keep you forever.

When she wondered if she would be adrift forevermore, she crashed through the floor.

I could make you utter things you never thought you’d possess the will to say just to get a taste of what I have to offer…

You… you figured out that imposter in level two wasn’t me and you had barely known me for three days. I can’t think of any other person who knows a single thing about me. I am honored that I have gotten to spend this time with you. I only wish we had more.

But your touch?” Her voice broke now. “Your touch means fucking everything. And that’s why we can’t cross that line again.

Actually, I’ll need every second of the eternity you promised me to do what I have planned for you.

Why can’t you see that you’re holding yourself back trying to fit into a mold Mother made for you?

He gave a single, sharp nod. “Understood.” Then he disappeared.

Aren’t you a tad bit curious about what I have in mind?” he teased. “I swear it won’t cause you any physical harm and I won’t even ask for anything in return. I just want to show you what someone like me can give you. Have you ever truly seen what a Devil can do? A powerful one, I mean?

I have an array of emotions for him,” Ophelia muttered. “He can be quite the pain in the ass, I assure you.

This is real,” he promised. “I’m real. I’m sorry the illusion used my likeness to trick you. I need you to know if you were to ever let me touch you, in any way, the moment you wanted to stop—I would. No hesitation.

I think it’s a bit too late for modesty, don’t you?” “Says the one who isn’t almost naked!” she threw back. His smile turned into a full-on grin now. “I could change that if you’d like.” “You are such a thorn in my side.

And if you take a decade from me and that’s all the time I have left, I would die?” “You could’ve died ten times in this manor already,” he told her. “But you’re right—that is a possibility. Still, it seems less painful to me than, say, getting ripped to pieces by a Hellhound?

sheathing himself inside,

The matter of my soul will always have your name etched into it.

but her anger was easier to stomach than the grief that hid beneath her skin.

The need to be good, to do well by everyone who had ever expected anything of her, was nestled deep inside her bones. Inextricable from her soul.

Of course, as with the magic, Ophelia was quickly learning that the idea of something was only pleasurable when it stayed an idea. A distant daydream.

The Grimm sisters

In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you

Her patience with the men in this place was wearing unbelievably thin.

I am personally rather fond of choking as the method of attack if you’re ever compelled to brawl with me again.

them. All the people who only do good deeds because of what that might gain them in the afterlife are no better than those who indulge in a little sin every once in a while.

A concept many overly curious tourists never seemed to learn, flocking to places like New Orleans—places rooted in magic—in search of things they knew nothing about.

If Ophelia thought the outside of the Phantasma estate was something to behold, the inside was utterly magnificent. It had taken her almost ten minutes to walk up the long driveway that led to the front doors, and her arms now felt like gelatin from carrying the heavy suitcases, but when she stepped through the enormous, stained-glass entrance, she nearly dropped the trunks where she stood.

her anger was easier to stomach than the grief that hid beneath her skin. Fury and spite could fuel her, propel her forward, but if she let her grief take over, she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to dig herself out of that pit.

it made her blood boil that Sinclair had the audacity to say a single disparaging thing about her Phantom considering the Devil’s own warped sense of morals.

Eric Greensborough,” he greeted. “My father is Donald Greensborough, owner of the city’s largest tobacco plant. You are?” “Not interested in socializing,” Ophelia answered.

The juiciest thing you ever did was Elliott Trahan, and I’ve had more chemistry with a slice of bread pudding than you ever did with that stick in the mud.

Tell me, angel, do you believe me to be heartless?

you are the only thing that’s ever made me feel even a semblance of hope in this eternity of Hell.

Finally alone, she threw herself onto her bed, face down, and let herself mourn the version of her life she once knew and would never have again.

C’mon, angel. Tell me what I can do to make you feel good. I’m at your service after all.

Except when he’s making grand speeches about every little thing he admires about me, or making the voice in my head shut up, or giving me the sort of unearthly pleasure that makes me see stars.

you are the only thing that’s ever made me feel even a semblance of hope in this eternity of Hell. The dream I’ve been looking for—the one to wake me up. The thought of wasting another second when I will lose you forever in only three days has ruined me. You are the closest thing I will ever get to experiencing heaven, and I’m not ready to let it go.

Vieni al'Inferno, troverai Diavoli e Demoni, ma almeno tuoi capelli non diventeranno crespi

for the record, I’d like it to be known that I am personally rather fond of choking as the method of attack if you’re ever compelled to brawl with me again.

He caught her against his chest easily, and she wrapped her arms so tightly around his neck that it was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe. She buried her face into the crook of his throat. “You came.” “You called,” he answered.

And despite what human lore loved to suggest, the beings that belonged to Heaven were no more good or bad than the ones of Hell. It just so happened Hell had been bestowed the task of punishing malicious mortal souls and Heaven the task of rewarding the ones who died with exceptional valor.

Life happens. Even in death. No use worrying about things that haven’t occurred yet.

Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to have your reality so distorted that you can’t trust your own thoughts,

Don’t tell me absence really does make the heart grow fonder?

You’re pathetic, undesirable. You’re creepy.

The girl who can’t run a simple errand because a dark thought popped into her head that something catastrophic would happen if she left the house that day. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to satisfy the voice long enough to get a break from having to listen to every single sin I’ve ever committed on repeat.

You can have everything, angel.

I can only imagine your poor nerves are at their wits’ end.

Cade had clearly managed to neutralize his own, too, after she’d exited.

There is nothing I have seen yet that has made me look away. No atrocity you could commit to make me not want you like this. No matter how forbidden.

If the dark looks at you, don’t look back.