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355 pages, ebook
First published October 15, 2016
I learn their routines. I enter their homes and go through their keepsakes and take small tokens here or there. Something they won't notice or will assume they have misplaced. I may move a picture. Eat something. Just enough so that somewhere in their subconscious they feel my presence long before I am standing in front of them.
She feeds the ravenous animal that lives inside of me,the hero says.
“Who are you?” I cry. “The Night,” he rasps.
“When you’re fucked up like me—like that—heaven and hell aren’t very different.”
“Girls like her don’t want the beast. They want the idea of one. They want to be safe and still revel in the thrill. But there’s no safety with a monster. Because monsters consume. They take your body, your soul, and your innocence."
“You’re a pretty little angel on the outside. But inside...” He shudders. “Inside you’re a whore who likes it when I spray my cum all over your tits.”
“He likes the taste of my sadness and I like when he injects me with his venom. He is my danger, my greatest threat.”
"Fear is the glue that holds us together."
“Who are you?” I cry. “The Night,” he rasps.
“Girls like her don’t want the beast. They want the idea of one. They want to be safe and still revel in the thrill. But there’s no safety with a monster. Because monsters consume. They take your body, your soul, and your innocence.
“He’s all rippled muscles, and sweat, and filth. Eyes that reveal no soul or depth, clear as a demon’s.
“I have news for you, Vesp. When you’re fucked up like me—like that—heaven and hell aren’t very different.”
“I want him to fill me with his poison again. He likes the taste of my sadness and I like when he injects me with his venom. He is my danger, my greatest threat. When he’s on my side, I know that I am safe.
“He’s right there, still in front of me, forcing me to look into those eyes. Eyes that have stolen everything.
You don't stare the devil in the eyes and come out without some of his sins. You can't beat the devil without becoming like him. You can't appeal to his kindness, so you have to learn to play his games. You lie, you fuck, you manipulate, you fight, you hurl insult, until you do whatever it takes to win the battle. Every time you do those things, you understand him a little more. Until finally, he becomes your ally. You thikn you've won, that you've made him more like you. But the truth is, it's the other way around. So that even when you win, you've lost.
"When you're fucked up like me—like that—heaven and hell aren't very different.”
He likes the taste of my sadness and I like when he injects me with his venom.
But I do know one thing: we are both hopelessly bound to the other, holding each other afloat. And if one of us snaps the line or sinks, the other will drown.
"Fear is the glue that holds us together."
"I am the storm. Strong and violent. Dangerous. I will tear down anything in my path to have her."
Girls like her don't want the beast. They want the idea of one. They want to be safe and still revel in the thrill. But there's no safety with a monster. Because monsters consume. They take your body, your soul, and your innocence.
“You don't take this out of your ass, only I do. You don't make yourself come when I'm not here today. That pussy, mouth, and ass is mine to fuck. You can play with your tits; you can do anything but come. If you do, I'll know. And I will make you bleed.”
You don't stare the devil in the eyes and come out without some of his sin. You can't beat the devil without becoming like him. You can't appeal to his kindness, so you have to learn to play his games. You lie, you fuck, you manipulate, you fight, you hurl insults, until you do whatever it takes to win the battle. Every time you do those things, you understand him a little more. Until finally, he becomes your ally.
Dark erotic romance novels are basically the new YA in that every bloody thing is the same. Kidnap a girl, rape f**k her, make her fall in love with the rapist/ kidnapper anti hero.
When i started this book, i felt like i was reading an upside down version of Pretty Stolen Dolls & Pretty Lost Dolls . I swear Sam was exactly like Benny except in this book Nina G. Jones worked extra damn hard to make him seem human. This is what Vesper says about Sam at a point "what i see is a face i could trust. A face that belies everything he's done. He is a person. He is someone. He is not a monster. And now that i see the whole picture of this young man, i want to know about his scars, all of them inside and out". IS THIS A JOKE???
i hate this book.. i basically hate all that this book represents. which is basically that kidnapping and rape (please let's just call it what it is, RAPE) could lead to HEA's. I'm sure some people would probably like to write Vesper off as suffering from Stockholm Syndrome but i honestly think the writer goes through pains to show us Vesper was in her right frame of mind and the spotlight is basically on how society would react if they found out. She writes that Vesper does struggle with stockholm syndrome this choice but in the end, i'm just going to let Vesper tell it to you "I make this decision at the moment not to be a victim...The very first night he gave me a choice and now i'm making another...This can't be wrong. The way i feel like i belong here..I feel like i'm home again"
This author thinks she can write twisted shit like this, put up a trigger warning saying "If you need one, this is really not the book for you" so somehow you're left thinking "i can't really complain right? she did put a trigger warning.
You do not get to write about rape and kidnapping like this and dress it up as something neat . You most certainly do not get to sweep it under this blanket called Love and somehow think will be hunky dory. You do not get to tell me this crap "Love isn't flowers or poetry" and somehow think you're safe from being called out because you put a trigger warning at the end.
I am a monster. Monsters don’t live under the fucking bed or the closet. They don’t appear in a puff of smoke. No, monsters are like me: the quiet guy who walks a drunk woman home, a protective uncle, that unassuming guy with the friendly smile who fixes your porch. We do our work in the dark, we lurk in the shadows, but we roam during the day, scouting our next prey.
"It's when you are secure in your sleep, in the safety of your warm covers, when you think you are most alone. That's when I come, when every last guard is down."
"I am the storm. Strong and violent. Dangerous. I will tear down anything in my path to have her. When I roll through, you see evidence of me all around. You will see branches broken, windows shattered. I will move obstacles that seem insurmountable."
"I have news for you, Vesp. When you're fucked up like me—like that—heaven and hell aren't very different."
"That's the thing about keeping a person alive. In a way you are just as much a hostage to them as they are to you."
"“Oh god,” I call out, knowing that there is no such thing down here. At least not the one to which we say our evening prayers. Only Night."
"It's what I felt when his eyes first met mine. It's the most thrilling thing to be told you are precious. That you are so valuable it puts you in danger. Nothing of such high regard can exist in this world without causing a storm. When a man covets something so strongly, he is its greatest threat."
“Please, I’ll give you everything I have.” I bargain as a last ditch effort. “That’s what I’m taking.”
“When they don’t know you’re looking, that’s when you see who they really are.”
“The man watches me cry. He licks a tear, like my sadness sustains him. “I’m gonna fuck you with my mouth. I’m gonna make you cry, but not like this. I’m gonna make you cry for me.”
“When you’re fucked up like me- like that – heaven and hell aren’t very different.”