you have forsaken all the love you've taken
sleeping on a razor there's nowhere left to fall
She is so different from any that has ever captured his attention that she makes him forget the rest.
He has always been a collector of pretty things, but she is so much more than that. He would not deny that he had initially been drawn to her because she is stunning, but it was her intelligence that had fully ensnared him. It was the way she asked to see all the dark parts of him and decided to keep them as her own rather than cast him aside, or try to turn him into something he was not. She had never tried to claim there was any good in him, or anything about him that could be saved—because while he was not entirely bad, it would be foolish to think there was any light left in him, either.
He was darkness and bits of gray, everything that was once moral and good having been tarnished over the years.
The only light that remained came in the form of destructive flames, and he knows that she can feel the promise of them when he breathes against her skin. The way each touch he places along her throat is hot, and instead of shrinking away she only offers him more.
He cannot stop the throaty laugh at her question, withdrawing from his exploration to lock her teal eyes with his. “Would I kill for you?” He repeats it as if he actually needs to contemplate it, as if he did not practically fantasize about killing anyone that might look at her. Reaching once more to thoughtfully run his mouth along the top of her neck, he takes in the aurora that rises up her legs and dances along her sides. He imagines what that would look like in the embrace of anyone that is not him—imagines another’s name on her perfect lips, and he feels the flames building in his chest, searching for a way up his throat.
Of course he would kill for her. And she knows this, too, but instead of being irritated at her bringing this weakness (because it is a weaknes—she is his weakness) to light, he chooses to fan that ember of jealousy into a flame, because it is what she wants.
With his lips caressing the soft skin at the base of her ear he finally utters a dark, “Yes,” the word itself smelling of smoke and releasing with it a curl of heat. “I’d burn everything to the ground for you,” he says with a low growl and a definitive pinch of her delicate skin between his teeth, not enough to break or even bruise, but only to drive the point home. He softens just as quickly though, following it with a caress of his lips in the same place, quieting his voice when he asks her, “Is that what you want me to do?”
Dacian
your body's aching, every bone is breaking
nothing seems to shake it, it just keeps holding on