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416 pages, Paperback
First published January 30, 2019
At best, Dimitri Fedorov was Marya Antonova’s greatest weakness. At worst, she was his.
for a moment, the words freeze in lev’s throat, and sasha looks at him, just looks, and suddenly he remembers. he remembers everything. every moment, every pulse, every triumph and loss that brought them here ... he is struck by the knowledge that she is here, that he is hers, that none of this was a given.
༊*·˚ “I’ll keep it safe,” he swore, his pulse and hers in synchronicity, in truth beneath her palm, “ and in return, you’ll have my heart, forever, until someone cuts it out of my fucking chest.”
“I will always love you, I will love you until the day I die— and if you’re the one to kill me, then by all means, you should know without a trace of doubt you will not have turned me away. I will have spent the final beat of my heart loving you, just as I always have. Only you, Masha. Only you, forever, I promise.”
“Write me a tragedy, Lev Pedrov," she whispered to him. "Write me a litany of sins. Write me a plague of devastation. Write me lonely, write me wanting, write me shattered and fearful and lost. Then write me finding myself in your arms, if only for a night, and then write it again. Write it over and over, Lev, until we both know the pages by heart.”
“Dimitri Fedorov, I already gave you my useless heart. Now, have everything else that matters. Have my loyalty, my right hand. Have everything that was once my mother’s and give me everything you once swore to Koschei. Give me all of you, take everything of me, and let’s see who stands against us then.”
Hate and love were so very similar. Both were intestinal, visceral. Both left scars, vestiges of pain. Hate could not be born from a place of indifference. Hate was only born from opposite sides of the same coin.
..she wore her love like a shield, like armor, and he ached for her; for what she was to him; for what they might have been.
"I fell in love with you, didn't I, Sasha Antonova?" His laugh, the set on her jaw, they both said I love you, it's over, we're doomed. "I was always going to be trapped."
"I would burn down the world for this love, Dima," she said, "so maybe I'll help you. Maybe I won't. Don't tell me what you're planning," she warned, "and let me have my secrets, too."
"I thought I was weak for you, Dima, but I was wrong. I'm Marya Antonova,” she told him, meeting his eye, "and I am loved by Dimitri Fedorov, and for that, I could never be weak."
“We can’t curse all the men in the world, can we?” “Not in a single day, at least,”
𖥻 “ hate and love were so very similar. both were intestinal, visceral. both left scars, vestiges of pain. hate could not be born from a place of indifference. hate was only born from opposite sides of the same coin. ”
𖥻 “ i will always love you, i will love you until the day i die - and if you’re the one to kill me, then by all means, you should know without a trace of doubt that you will not have turned me away. i will have spent the final beat of my heart loving you, just as i always have. ”
— mashadima ⊹ "you would’ve only had to ask, and i would have chosen you over everything.”
— sashalev ⊹ "write me a litany of sins. write me a plague of devastation. write me lonely, write me wanting, write me shattered and fearful and lost. then write me finding myself in your arms, if only for a night, and then write it again. write it over and over, lev, until we both know the pages by heart. isn’t that a story too?”
— roman federov ⊹ "because of you, i am haunted... because of all i've done for you, and now you say i'm not enough?”
"i could have been enough if you had ever let me.”
— others ⊹ "my daughters are diamonds, as yaga so often said. nothing is more beautiful. nothing shines brighter. and most importantly, nothing will break them.”
“Write me a tragedy, Lev Fedorov,” she whispered to him. “Write me a litany of sins. Write me a plague of devastation. Write me lonely, write me wanting, write me shattered and fearful and lost. Then write me finding myself in your arms, if only for a night, and then write it again. Write it over and over, Lev, until we both know the pages by heart. Isn’t that a story, too?” she asked him softly.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“Sasha leaned forward, lips against his cheek. “Write me a tragedy, Lev Fedorov,” she whispered to him. “Write me a litany of sins. Write me a plague of devastation. Write me lonely, write me wanting, write me shattered and fearful and lost. Then write me finding myself in your arms, if only for a night, and then write it again. Write it over and over, Lev, until we both know the pages by heart. Isn’t that a story, too?” she asked him softly.”