Reckless Lauren Roberts Quotes

Call us even. Call me crazy. I don’t care. Just…” His eyes are pleading, brimming with emotion. “Just call me yours.

You cannot be nothing when you are everything to someone else.

I may be a monster, but if you cut me, I'll bleed. And if you break my heart, Pae, you'll break me. So, if even a sliver of your soul longs for mine, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve it.

And then she smiles, bright and big like the night sky hanging above us. I fear she could rival the stars.

It’s a good thing you’re not here,” he says softly, a tone I never thought I’d hear from him again. “Because I still haven’t found my courage.

For the reckless souls who dare to love and be loved

Tell me you hate me, and I'll still count every heartbeat, every freckle, every shiver of your body, if only you say it with a smile.

I think I would fall on my sword if it meant you mourned me,” he breathes. “And it’s terrifying to think you hold that much power over me.

Do I haunt your dreams, plague your thoughts, like you do mine?

At my weakest, I wish for him. And at my strongest, I wish I could say it wasn’t the same.

I’m tired of writing from the villain’s perspective.

I want her to burn for me, even if it means with hatred.

He is my anchor, and I am willing to sink, so long as it is with him.

She is the torture I may not survive. Eagerly, she is my undoing. Her gaze lifts, meeting eyes that are not my own. Eyes of the man who gets to have her-if she allows it. She was supposed to be my forever. Now I'll watch her become someone else's. Because the beast doesn't get the beauty.

If she is Shadow, then I am Flame. This girl is the very thing I can’t seem to escape—can’t seem to go anywhere without the remnants of her following. Where I am, she is. Whether it’s in the flesh or in the fragments of my mind. And where there is a flame, there is always a shadow. She is my inevitable.

You promised to be my undoing,” I murmur, lowering my head close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath. “So, prove it.” Her face angles up toward mine, our noses brushing. She never lowers her dagger, and the point of her blade still draws blood from my throat. “Prove it,” I repeat, voice quiet. “Hate me enough to make me want you.” I cup her jaw, feeling her eyes burning into mine. “Ruin me.” Our mouths crash together.

Maybe you really are a poet," I whisper. He smiles softly. "Only a fool for you." "Pretend?" My voice is small, soft like the breeze blowing through my short hair. "Never." "None of it?" I ask quietly. "Darling"-he smiles- "I have never had to pretend to want you.

No, I'm sick of running. And I won't spend the rest of my life doing it unless it's you I'm running back to." "Then I'll spend the rest of my life tracking you down," he says quietly. "Glimpsing you in shadows. Fighting you in the streets. Dancing with you in my dreams. Because living without you is only bearable when I know you are out there still living too.

You are my proof of a paradise,” he murmurs with a quick flick of my nose.

Go on, my Silver Savior,” he muses bitterly. “Be my undoing.

You asked me what my favorite color was once. I'd never even pondered the answer to that question before you. And yet, I realized in that moment that it was blue." He bends to brush a kiss to my temple, a murmur against my skin. "It is your eyes.

We were inevitably imperfect for each other.

Prove it,” I repeat, voice quiet. “Hate me enough to make me want you.” I cup her jaw, feeling her eyes burning into mine. “Ruin me.

I used to welcome the idea of drowning in those blue eyes of hers. But now, seeing the disdain she stares me down with, I realize that drowning alone wasn’t

I wanted to kill you," I whisper, forcing his eyes to open. "I wanted to be your undoing. But even then, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had." He inches toward me, head shaking and eyes roaming as though overwhelmed by what he is seeing. "Oh, but you are my undoing. My deliverance. my downfall disguised as a deity." Another slow step. "You are my ruin.

You don't regret it?" She shakes her head, her smile sad, "No." "Good," I murmur. "Because I've always had a thing for short hair." "Oh, really?" She laughs as I sway us in a circle. "It's true. Among other things, of course." I shrug a shoulder. "Short hair. Ocean-blue eyes. Twenty-eight freckles. And"- I pause, examining her with a tilt of my head-"how tall are you?" She blinks in confusion. "Umm, about five and a half feet?" "Five and a half feet," I continue evenly. "The terrifying ability to kick a man's ass. Stunning smile. Ridiculously stubborn. Hair like molten silver. Quick to threaten me with a dagger." I smile down at her. "Should I go on?

I don’t regret it.” His words are a rush, a confession he’s clung to. “I don’t regret you, or what was between us. And I don’t regret kissing you on that roof. But I know I’ll regret what I have to do to you for the rest of my life.

My blood is only useful if it can manage to stay inside my body. My mind is only useful if it can manage to not get lost. My heart is only useful if it can manage to not get broken. Well, it seems I’ve become utterly useless, then.

What?” I grind out. She snorts. “Possessive, are we?” “I chained you to me. What do you think?

A ballad of betrayal, a sonnet of sorrow. I’m tired of writing from the villain’s perspective.

This kiss is deep and anything but tender. It is betrayal. It is bitterness. And nothing has ever tasted so sweet. It is ruin.

She’s unbearable, really. But not in the way that makes it any easier to look away. No, everything about her is a bold sort of beauty, like a rose proudly displaying its thorns. She’s alluring in the way that most deadly things are. It’s captivating.

I press a calloused palm to the stubborn beat of my heart, proof that broken things can still serve a purpose.

This girl is the very thing I can’t seem to escape—can’t seem to go anywhere without the remnants of her following. Where I am, she is. Whether it’s in the flesh or in the fragments of my mind.

Because the next time I lay a hand on you, I only ever want it to be in a caress,” he says softly.

Stop myself from falling in love with you!

Your hair could pass for moonbeams before it passes for gray.

Plagues. Pretty boy. Pretty words.

She is still my mission, and I am still her monster.

And where there is a flame, there is always a shadow.

Her chest heaves, brushing mine with each heavy breath. “Don’t think for a second,” she whispers, “that I won’t be the death of you.

I wanted her to be formidable. Recklessly bold. Powerful despite ability." I stare at him, taking in each word. "I am none of those things," I whisper. He drops my hand to brush gentle fingers beneath my chin, raising my face up towards his. "You are much more than those things." "You overestimate me." "No. I just see you.

he looks at me with a reverence reserved for religion.

She tasted like a privilege, felt like a dream.

My life is not my own. And, for that reason, she can never be mine.

You're not just a mission to me. You're not just another enemy for me to find. You're something even more terrifying." Her voice is little more than a whisper. "And what is that?" "A need." We stare at each other, both surprised by the words that pushed their way past my lips. Sunlight is streaming through her hair, making her glow like something far too heavenly for me. "I thought you had found your courage," she says softly. I smile slightly. "Maybe I'm fine with being a fool. So long as it's for you.

Plagues, I love that sound,” he murmurs, making me fall silent. “I would tattoo it into my skin if it meant you’d laugh at me for doing it.

No.” My voice is stern. “No, I’m sick of running. And I won’t spend the rest of my life doing it unless it’s you I’m running back to.” “Then I’ll spend the rest of my life tracking you down,” he says quietly.

Every touch, every dance, every kiss disguised as a distraction was anything but. Because before I loved her, I longed for her. She was a want I wasn't worthy of. And I'm afraid I'll never get the chance to deserve her. Because now that I have her, I'm giving her away.

There is such beauty in resilience, in the ability to laugh despite it all.

Her gaze softens. “That doesn’t mean you keep suffering just because you know you can.

She looks at me, shocked. And then she smiles, bright and big like the night sky hanging above us. I fear she could rival the stars.

Oh, but you are my undoing. My deliverance. My downfall disguised as a deity.” Another slow step. “You are my ruin.

I'd be a fool to not fear something so fierce." I swallow. "And are you not? A fool, that is." He stands then, holding my gaze until he's the one looking down on me. "Not anymore.

Because the beast doesn’t get the beauty.

The setting sun drips with golden rays across her face, blue eyes burning bright against the vibrant red of each poppy. It's hard to believe that something so beautiful would willing stare at the likes of me. I feel undeserving of her gaze, of the way her eyes roam over my face. I shake my head, still staring down at her. "Don't look at me like that." "Like what?" she asks softly. "Like I'm worthy of being seen.

This will be the rest of my life. Forced to love her from a distance. Mourn the loss of her each day. But I will. I will smother every emotion but the one that belongs to her. I will love her until I am incapable of the feeling. She is the torture I may not survive. Eagerly, she is my undoing. She was supposed to be my forever. Now I'll watch her become someone else's. Because the beast doesn't get the beauty.

Pretend," I whisper against his lips. I am recklessness incarnate. Until the very end. My mouth meets his. He tastes like longing. Like regret and relief. Like nothing matters but this moment. It's fervent, like a sinner's prayer. And maybe that is what this kiss is. Repentance.

Every touch, every dance, every kiss disguised as distraction was anything but. Because before I loved her, I longed for her. She was a want I wasn’t worthy of. And I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance to deserve her.

I bite my tongue at the sting that still shoots down my body, but the sound of her laugh is healing, capable of a man forgetting his own name, let alone his pain.

Well, you’re not exactly the most encouraging person to be tied up with.” “Under different circumstances,” he pants, “I promise you I’m much more fun tied up.

Maybe I’m fine with being a fool. So long as it’s for you.

Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” she asks softly. “Like I’m worthy of being seen.

That’s… admirable, in its own, twisted way.” He’s quiet for a moment, contemplating something. “And I’m sorry I was the first to start that pattern.

I think you overestimate love," I say simply. "You can't overestimate something that is infinite." Infinite. How equally intimidating and intriguing.

Dammit, the minute you threw a dagger at my head, I knew I was done for. There was no longer a before you, only what I wanted with you.

Hate me enough to make me want you.” I cup her jaw, feeling her eyes burning into mine. “Ruin me.” Our mouths crash together.

Yet, I can’t help but think that in another life, another time, another chance to choose each other—I would be in that bed beside her.

lip. “Still contemplating drowning you, actually.” My voice is breathy, my own fingers wandering over the curve of his jaw. “Oh, darling, I already am.” His lips inch closer to mine, teasing me. “And I’m begging you to let me breathe you in.

I used to welcome the idea of drowning in those blue eyes of hers. But now, seeing the disdain she stares me down with, I realize that drowning alone wasn’t what I craved, but sinking together.

Tell me, darling, do you think of me often?” His voice is a murmur, as if his lips were pressed against my ear. I shiver, knowing exactly what that feels like. If he knows I’m here then why hasn’t he— “Do I haunt your dreams, plague your thoughts, like you do mine?

I blow out a shaky breath, pushing away thoughts of the boy with gray eyes as piercing as the sword I watched him drive through my father’s chest so many years ago.

Good,” I murmur. “Because I’ve always had a thing for short hair.

If she is Shadow, then I am Flame.

You are my proof of a paradise,

I am recklessness incarnate. Until the very end.

Our mouths crash together.

I’m paralyzed in his arms, powerless in his hold that once felt so safe. His chest rises and falls against me, a feeling that was once so familiar. Now it is foreign. Frightening.

And it's terrifying. Terrifying to know every terrible thing she's done and still want all of her in spite of me.

We sway in silence until she whispers, “Pretend, right?” I swallow, hating the sound of the lie that slides off my tongue. “Pretend.

Her head is crushing my arm. And I fear I’d never move again if it meant she stayed beside me.

Yes, well, there’s not a price on my head.” “You’re the prince of Ilya. There will always be a price on your head.” And with that, she rips the bandanna from my face.

He used to dance for me until I fell asleep,” I whisper against his chest. I feel him nod against my hair. “Then we’ll dance until you’re dreaming of him.

If she fights for nothing, she lives for death. But if she burns for something, she lives for hope.

There is no past, no future. Just him. Just us. Just this moment and what we decide to do with it. Death emboldens. The end initiates.

I feel anything but Ordinary with the prince on his knees before me.

Try not to dream of me, Pae,” he whispers against my ear. “You first, Prince.

Touch her again,” he snarls, voice low, “and I’ll slit your throat. She’s mine.

As Ilya’s Enforcer and second to the king, she’s my property. Mine. Which means if anyone so much as lays a hand on her, you’ll learn firsthand just how brutal the Elites can be.

And let's pray they don't." I stuff the reins in his hands, suddenly too curious to steer. "I didn't peg you as the type to pray, Prince." I feel his shoulders shrug against my back. "I didn't used to believe in a God." "And now?" There is a long pause followed by a softening of his voice. "I found proof of a paradise." I glance over my shoulder to find his eyes already on me. "And what was that?" His gaze glides over my face and down the length of my braid. "You'll know when you see it.

This is not how I will remember us. Not as enemies or traitors or monsters, but as two people dancing in the dark, swaying beneath the stars. Her feet atop mine, her head on the heart that beats only for her.

There is a certain comfort in being willingly lost, hidden from life itself.

You are to be my bride.

But his tone is familiar, feeling like dancing in a dark room and thumb wars under willow trees. The way the words rolled off of his tongue felt like a light flick to the tip of my nose, like calloused fingers braiding silver hair. It felt like Kai. Like the man behind the masks who looked at me like I was extraordinary. I blink at the crumbling rocks crowding the path, willing my mind to wander toward anything but the words that have me wishing things were different. But I am Ordinary. I am the embodiment of the weakness he has been taught to hate. Ordinary.

It's silly, really. No, actually, it's bullshit. It's complete and utter bullshit that he's able to make me melt with nothing more than a mere touch. His hand should not have so much control over me. Tracing fingers should not be tugging on my heartstrings. But gentleness will be my undoing. There is an intimacy in being reached for.

She's unbearable, really. But not in the way that makes it any easier to look away. No, everything about her is a bold sort of beauty, like a rose proudly displaying it's thorns. She's alluring in the way that most deadly things are. It's captivating.

Tell me you hate me, and I’ll still count every heartbeat, every freckle, every shiver of your body, if only you say it with a smile.” He backs away, freeing my face from his hands. “I may be a monster, but if you cut me, I’ll bleed. And if you break my heart, Pae, you’ll break me. So, if even a sliver of your soul longs for mine, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve it.

Pretend,” I whisper against his lips. I am recklessness incarnate. Until the very end. My mouth meets his. He tastes like longing. Like regret and relief. Like nothing matters but this moment. It’s fervent, like a sinner’s final prayer. And maybe that is what this kiss is. Repentance.

But I crave the sound of my name on his tongue. I want him to shout it from a rooftop, whisper it in my ear, trace it on my skin. I want my name to form a familiar shape in his mouth, tasting of my lips. I want him to own my name and still beg when he says it. Or maybe I just want him.

He has the nerve to chuckle. “Your name seems like a good word to die with on my lips.” “Kai—” “I don’t regret it.” His words are a rush, a confession he’s clung to. “I don’t regret you, or what was between us. And I don’t regret kissing you on that roof. But I know I’ll regret what I have to do to you for the rest of my life.