Six Scorched Roses Quotes

Because I want only you, Lilith. Whatever of you I can have. I’ll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me. I’ll have it.

Time, Vale,” I said. “Time is the most valuable resource of all, and some of us are perpetually short.

It must be hard,” he murmured. “To bear the weight of so much affection in a life so short.

Whatever you need," he said. "My blood. My books. My knowledge. Anything. It is yours.

It’s just… something being difficult is not a good reason not to do it.

No, logic doesn’t matter in the face of fear and emotion. Logic falls to its knees before hatred, and hatred flourishes in fear—

Whatever you wish to give me,” he repeated, slowly, like he wanted to make sure I understood. “I’ll have it.

Run, a voice inside me whispered. Stay, another begged.

Because here, in this moment, with me on the right side of death and her on the right side of living, lost in a tearful embrace hello instead of goodbye, we met each other on level ground.

Here’s the thing about the God of Abundance. Abundance wears many faces. The god of plenty is also the god of decay. There can be no life without death, no feast without famine.

Time is the most valuable resource of all, and some of us are perpetually short.

I suppose that once someone has seen my bare ass, we can drop the titles.

I can’t imagine that ever being true,” he murmured. “Because I want only you, Lilith. Whatever of you I can have. I’ll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me. I’ll have it.

May I write to you?” he asked.

It smells like honey. Like… nightshade. Sweet. Perhaps with a bitter bite.

And when the days passed, and my exhaustion and my enthusiasm led me to loosen my typically-closely-held control over my socially unacceptable attitudes, my raw enthusiasm leaking through as I talked excitedly to Vale about some theory or another, I turned to see him staring at me, brows drawn. His expression made me freeze, my face flushing—because I’d let down a wall I shouldn’t have and wasn’t sure what I might have revealed beyond it. “I—” I started. But he just said, calmly, “You are a very beautiful woman.

Maybe he was used to being cowered at. I did not cower. Why should I? I’d already met death three times now. So far, the fourth was a bit of a disappointment.

You want more than I can give you,” I whispered. “I can’t imagine that ever being true,” he murmured. “Because I want only you, Lilith. Whatever of you I can have. I’ll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me. I’ll have it.

You… you came back,” I said. “I know it wasn’t what you wanted me to do. But I was a general because I was better at giving orders than following them.

I knew death even before I could name it.

You don’t know what it feels like to watch yourself die.

Men from upper-class families were welcome to be openly delighted by their craft. It made them interesting and eccentric, committed and passionate. When women did it, it made us vapid.

You should be afraid, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. But I’d never been afraid of death.

Maybe they want some part of me I have already given to someone else.

I had never been enough. I had never been able to give any of them enough—enough time, enough love. Everyone gave up so much trying to get more from me, and now I did the same for them. From the moment I was old enough to understand my eventual fate, I made every decision knowing this. Knowing that I couldn’t be enough. Knowing that I would wither too fast, like a flower in an early frost.

Vale held me tight to his chest, cradled in his arms, forehead to mind. There were tears in his eyes and blood on his lips. 'I want to stay,' I choked out. 'I know,' he whispered, as his mouth lowered to mind, and I faded away there in his arms, surrounded by withering roses.

A life I couldn’t live. A heart I couldn’t free. A role I couldn’t play.

But I was used to being judged—too used to it to realize when judgment became dangerous.

He had invited me to his bed once before. I’d been tempted then. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted now. Curiosity was my greatest vice.

Does nothing bother you?” he said. “You seem totally unmoved that you almost died.

Stay, stay, stay.

You want more than I can give you,' I whispered. 'I can't imagine that ever being true,' he murmured. 'Because I want only you, Lilith. Whatever of you I can have. I'll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me. I'll have it.

Maybe he was used to being cowered at. I did not cower. Why should I? I’d already met death three times now. So far, the fourth was a bit of a disappointment. “I brought a gift for you,” I said. His brows lowered slightly. “A gift,” he repeated. “A gift.” He cocked his head, a slow curl brushing his lips. “Is the gift you?

He was decoding me, solving me, the way I had solved him. I was being projected onto the wall like I had projected his blood, and I knew with a strange, terrible kind of certainty in this moment that he found me just as remarkable. He wasn’t the only one. Because even though he had let go of my chin, I didn’t look away from him, either.

I was thirty. Old enough for my body to protest a night absent of sleep in ways it hadn’t ten years ago.

when you don’t have much time in this world, you want to fill it with as much knowledge as possible.

It is, after all, a waste to love a thing that will soon be gone.

There can be no life without death, no feast without famine.

It must take a toll, spending all this time trying to understand why your god turned against you.

... Time is so kind to humans. And so cruel.

It's so much easier to be the one who leaves first.

I promise I did not eat you.

My Vale.

You’re an especially nosy mouse today.

Sweet with a bitter bite.

I had been unconscious in a vampire’s home. I touched my neck, just to make sure⁠— “I promise I did not eat you.” Vale’s voice was low and smooth with amusement.

A dark, taunting mimicry of everything I’d grown to find to beautiful.

All this time you’ve gotten to study me. That isn’t fair.

Knowledge with no context is meaningless.

It must be hard. To bear the weight of so much affection in a life so short.

He was eternity while I was impermanence

I could show my love in medicine and math and science. I couldn’t show it to her in an embrace—and what good would a thing like that do, anyway?

Vale had discarded the withered rose in favor of my skin. The petals spread around us, now nothing but decaying dust. Unnatural life. Rightful death.

Do I seem, Lord Vale,” I said, “like someone frightened of the unknown?” His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Nosy mouse,” he murmured.

It’s over, Lilith,” he said. “You saved them.

But how did you know?” I said. “I didn’t know, Lilith. I felt.

Gods, the way he looked at me—a strange feeling shivered in my heart.

I wanted life. I wanted time.

Vitarus was beautiful the way death was surely beautiful moments before it took you.

I did hate him. I wanted to spit in his face and curse at him and strike him. If only killing a god was as easy as killing his acolyte.

You aren’t a stupid man, Vale,” I said quietly, and he winced. “No,” he said. “Just a desperate one.

There was nowhere one could hide from a god.

I had thought nothing could possibly be more beautiful than Vale’s blood. I had been wrong.

I wanted all of it. I wanted lifetimes, eternities, to absorb everything that he knew—to experience the world as he had.

I wanted him to see in himself what I saw of him every day. The beauty of it. The miracle of it.

Strange, how vampires and humans were so different and yet so much alike.

I still couldn’t decide if Vale’s mansion was the ugliest or most beautiful place I had ever been.

Gods, I wished I could capture that expression. It was a thing of art.

They'd brought weapons and explosives and fire. And they'd brought the most dangerous things of all: desperation and rage.

I’m dead, I thought. I’m dead. This is death. Or is it life? Maybe, a voice said, it’s something in between, mouse.

It was foolish that I didn’t realize you were god-touched, too. You strange creature.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Different from any human or any vampire I had ever encountered.

Why was I working so hard? I was working so hard because none of it would ever be enough. I would continue until I had nothing left to give. Force myself through the grinding machinery of the mind.

Is there somewhere we can sit?” I asked. “Sit?” “Yes, sit. You must have lots of chairs in here. You must do nothing but sit, being in this mansion all by yourself all day and night.” “Do I look like I do nothing but sit?

I had never liked being held much. I found it too hot and restrictive. But Vale’s body was just the right amount of warm and cool, just the right balance of soft and firm. It felt like it was built to accommodate the shape of my own.

You want more than I can give you," I whispered. "I can't imagine that ever being true," he murmured. "Because I only want you, Lillith. Whatever of you I can have. I'll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me, I'll have it.

And when the days passed, and my exhaustion and my enthusiasm led me to loosen my typically-closely-held control over my socially unacceptable attitudes, my raw enthusiasm leaking through as I talked excitedly to Vale about some theory or another, I turned to see him staring at me, brows drawn. His expression made me freeze, my face flushing—because I’d let down a wall I shouldn’t have and wasn’t sure what I might have revealed beyond it. “I—” I started. But he just said, calmly, “You are a very beautiful woman.

After a few minutes, I knocked again, louder. Waited. Nothing. I knocked a third time, a fourth. And then, finally, I thought to myself, Well, this is the stupidest thing I’ll ever do, and tried opening the door. The door, to my luck—or misfortune—was unlocked.

Enough?' Vitarus said, incredulous. 'Enough? What is it to suffer enough? The mouse suffers at the fangs of a snake. The snake suffers a the claws of a badger. The badger suffers at the teeth of a wolf. The wolf suffers at the spear of a hunter. There is no such thing as enough suffering.

It wasn’t just work, either. He wove little fragments of his life into those letters, too, doodled in the corners or at the bottom of the page. A little drawing of a bird he’d seen on his balcony railing. Mundane observations about the weather: The wind is cold today. How can you people call this spring?

I could never solve Vale and his many mysteries, but I loved them all the same. And in these complexities, I saw a mirror held up to all the things that did not make sense within myself. For the first time, I saw beauty in all the things I did not understand. And I knew that Vale saw beauty in all those things within me, too.

What?' He cried, darting at him a look of fury: 'Dare you still implore the Eternal's mercy? Would you feign penitence, and again act an Hypocrite's part? Villain, resign your hopes of pardon. Thus I secure my prey!' As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, He sprang with him from the rock. The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorching beams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads of insects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood which trickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them from him, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into his body, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him tortures the most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore his flesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. A burning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolled beside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound. Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemy and curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of death destined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days did the Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The winds in fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds, now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled the stream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot where Ambrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river the Corse of the despairing Monk.

realized, for the first time, that the only thing more beautiful than his blood was the expression of amazement on his face. Tears pricked my eyes. “You want more than I can give you,” I whispered. “I can’t imagine that ever being true,” he murmured. “Because I want only you, Lilith. Whatever of you I can have. I’ll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me. I’ll have it.

Do I seem, Lord Vale,” I said, “like someone frightened of the unknown?” His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Nosy mouse,” he murmured,

must be hard,” he murmured. “To bear the weight of so much affection in a life so short.

He said, “Are you really not concerned that I’m going to eat you?” A little, a voice whispered in the back of my head. “No,” I said. “If you were going to do that, you would have done it by now.” “Maybe there were other things I wanted to do first,” he said in a tone that implied this often got much more of a reaction. I sighed wearily. “Can we talk?” I said. “We don’t have much time.

It must be hard," he murmured. "To bear the weight of so much affection in a life so short.

Why was I working so hard? I was working so hard because none of it would ever be enough. I would continue until I had nothing left to give. Force myself through the grinding machinery of the mind. Better this than to spend time making it harder for her to say goodbye to me one day. My love gave my sister nothing. But my work gave her a chance.

Whatever you need,” he said. “My blood. My books. My knowledge. Anything. It is yours.

Eron had been gawky, and he was a farm boy, and that summer when I had been sixteen and curious, we had indeed explored each other in the deserted moments behind the barn, when no one else was around. I didn’t want to die a virgin. I was certain, then, that I wouldn’t live to see the winter, so I saw all of Eron instead.

Does nothing bother you?” he said. “You seem totally unmoved that you almost died.” I didn’t tell him that I was always almost dying.

I had never been able to give any of them enough enough time, enough love. Everyone gave up so much trying to get more from me, and now I did the same for them. From the moment I was old enough to understand my eventual fate, I made every decision knowing this. Knowing that I couldn't be enough. Knowing that I would wither too fast, like a flower in an early frost.

But it was unfair...to let him love me the way he wanted to, or to let myself love him with all the fractured pieces I could offer him. He always wanted more than I could or wanted to give him. It is, after all, a waste to love a thing that will soon be gone.

You aren’t a stupid man, Vale,” I said quietly, and he winced. “No,” he said. “Just a desperate one.

Vale stepped away from the horse. His hand was the last part of him to move. I watched it leave my thigh. “Travel safely,” he said. I gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you in a month, Vale.” And he returned that smile—a thing so lovely I barely even noticed the teeth. “I’ll see you in a month, mouse.

What—” “May I write to you?” he asked. My mouth closed. I blinked at him. “May I write?” He sounded vaguely irritated, and I wasn’t sure why. “Yes,” I said, at last. “Of course.

I arched an eyebrow. “Well, Vale, you already had one houseguest this—” “Not like that,” he huffed. “The houseguest is gone. I offer you your own bed. Though”—and here his voice lowered, slightly—“if you wanted to share mine instead, I wouldn’t object to that, either.

I want only you, Lilith. Whatever of you I can have. I’ll take one night. One hour. One minute. Whatever you want to give me. I’ll have it.

Vale wasn’t a cure for anything. He was a whole new disease, one I’d carry with me to my inevitable end.

Are you really not concerned that I’m going to eat you?

You can just call me Vale,” he grumbled. “I suppose that once someone has seen my bare ass, we can drop the titles.