Well, I Guess I Can Wait Two

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.

My God, Sage. Your Eyes. How Have I Never Noticed Them?" That Uncomfortable Feeling Was Spreading Over Me Again. "what About Them?" "the Color," He Breathed. "when You Stand In The Light. They're Amazing... Like Molten Gold. I Could Paint Those..." He Reached Toward Me But Then Pulled Back. "they're Beautiful. You're Beautiful.

Your Hair," Repeated Dimitri. His Eyes Were Wide, Almost Awestruck. "your Hair Is Beautiful." I Didn't Think So, Not In Its Current State. Of Course, Considering We Were In A Dark Alley Filled With Bodies, The Choices Were Kind Of Limited. "you See? You're Not One Of Them. Strigoi Don't See Beauty. Only Death. You Found Something Beautiful. One Thing That's Beautiful." Hesitantly, Nervously, He Ran His Fingers Along The Strands I'd Touched Earlier. "but Is It Enough?" "it Is For Now." I Pressed A Kiss To His Forehead And Helped Him Stand. "it Is For Now.

Feel Guilty. Mourn This. But Move On. Don't Let It Destroy You. Forgive Yourself.

What Are You, Rose Hathaway? Are You Real? You're A Dream Within A Dream. I'm Afraid Touching You Will Make Me Wake Up. You'll Disappear.