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386 pages, Hardcover
First published August 18, 2009
Who the fuck are you?The situation is appalling, and I an rather outraged at myself for loving her inner monologue in this moment, but it can't be helped. Mac's voice, her inner thoughts, are so beautifully written that I am at doubts with myself.
Here on the floor, in my final moments—MacKayla Lane’s last grand hurrah—I see that the answer is all I’ve ever been.
With an explosive inhalation, I snap upright in bed, and my eyes fly open—like coming alive after being dead and interred in a coffin.And she is pissed. Understandably so. Fucking Barrons. Fucking V'lane. Fucking useless, the lot of them. One of the rare moments in which I actually agreed with Dani is her observation of how completely fucking useless Barrons had been in protecting Mac.
I am Mac.
And I’m back.
And Barrons—what’s his deal? Doesn’t he want her alive? Why have they all abandoned her when she needs ‘em the most?
Dude, they suck.
“I was out of my mind. I’d never have done it otherwise.”I agree with her. One may argue that it's pretty hard to resist a naked girl who's crawling around begging to be fucked, but this is Jericho fucking Barrons; I expect better of him, I have higher expectations of him. He had never crossed that line with Mac before, and he let me down by doing so now, and I think I hate him more as a result. Yes, what he did to help Mac recover her memories was pretty sweet, he painted her nails, he replicated her room, etc. It's not enough. He didn't have to screw Mac without her conscious consent.
Really, his dark eyes mocked, and in them I was demanding more, telling him I wanted it to always be this way.
I remembered what he’d replied: that one day I would wonder if it was possible to hate him more.
“I had no awareness. No choice.” I searched for words to drive my point home. “It was every bit as much rape as what the Unseelie Princes did to me.”
Maybe in the moment of being born and the moment of dying, we're nearer to pure. Maybe it's the only time we're ever still enough to feel that there's something bigger than us; something that defeats entropy; that has always been and will always be. A thing that cant be flipped. Call it what you will.
I only know it's divine.
“Our sex is fierce. We will both be bruised.
"I want it to always be like this," I tell him.
"Try holding onto that thought."
"I do not need to try. I will never feel differently."
His laughter is as dark and cold as the place of which I dream, "One day you will wonder if it's possible to hate me more.”
“He shakes me.
"Say my name."
"Damn it,would you just cooperate?"
"I do not know that word, 'cooperate.'"
"Obviously," he growls.
"I think you make up words."
"I do not make up words."
I laugh ….
"Woman you make me crazed," he mutters.
We do this often.
Get into childish arguments.
He is stubborn,my beast.”
I FELT AS IF I’d SLIPPED DOWN ONE OF ALICE’s HOLES
Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself. Fecking A, as Dani would say, who wouldn’t at this point?
PAIN PLEASURE DELIGHT TORTURE LOVE HATE LAUGHTER DESPAIR BEAUTY HORROR HOPE GRIEF
Jericho, MY LOVE, what the HELL??