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“I wasn’t kind, Jude. Not to many people. Not to you. I wasn’t sure if I
wanted you or if I wanted you gone from my sight so that I would stop feeling
as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone—truly
gone beneath the waves—I hated myself as I never have before.”
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes
I can’t think of anything else.”
"For a moment" he says, "I wondered if it wasn't you shooting bolts at me."
I make a face at him. "And what made you decide it wasn't?"
He grins up at me. "They missed."
He looks up at me with his night colored eyes, beautiful and terrible all at once. “For a moment,” he says, “I
wondered if it wasn’t you shooting bolts at me.”
I make a face at him. “And what made you decide it wasn’t?”
He grins up at me. “They missed.”