“I loved you!" he yelled. He jumped up out of his chair so quickly I never saw it coming. "I loved you, and you destroyed me. You took my heart and ripped it up.”

“I loved you! I loved you and you destroyed me. You took my heart and ripped it up. You might as well have staked me! I. Loved. You. And you used me the whole time. (Adrian Ivashkov)”

“You…you got rid of that dress fast," I pointed out between heavy breaths. "I thought you liked it." "I do like it," he said. His breathing was as heavy as mine. "I love it." And then he took me to the bed.”

“You know," he said, "under normal circumstances, you inviting me to the bedroom would be the highlight of my day."I crossed my arms and sat on the bed. I did so out of simple fatigue, but a moment later, I was struck by what I was doing. This is where Adrian sleeps. I'm touching the covers he's wrapped in every night. What does he wear? Does he wear anything? I jumped up.”

“You can't," I murmured, swallowing the tears back with great effort. "You can't keep saving me, can't keep trying to. It's too late." "No," he said. His heart was in his eyes, and it was ripping mine apart. "Not for you. Never.”

“This isn't over. I won't give up on you.""I've given up on you," he said back, voice also soft. "Love fades. Mine has."I stared at him in disbelief. All this time, he'd never phrased it like that. His protests had always been about some greater good, about the remorse he felt over being a monster of how it had scarred him from love. I've given up on you. Love fades. Mine has.I backed up, the sting of those words hitting me as hard as if he'd slapped me. Something shifted in his features, like maybe he knew how much he'd hurt me. I didn't stick around to see. Instead, I pushed my way out of the aisle and ran out the doors in the back, afraid that if I stayed any longer, everyone in the church would see me cry.”

“Kill me, Doug. Just kill me now. Put me out of my misery.”“Christ, Kincaid, what did you say to him?” murmured Doug.“Well,” I told Doug, “I ripped on his fans and on how long it takes for his books to come out.”Doug stared at me, his expectations exceeded.“Then I said—not knowing who he was—that I’d be Seth Mortensen’s love slave in exchange for advanced copies of his books.”