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I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you. That wanting nearly drove me mad." Patch paused, inhaling softly, as though breathing me in. "And now that I have you, the only thing that terrifies me is having to go back to that place. Having to want you all over again, with no hope of my desire ever being fulfilled. You're mine, Angel. Every last piece of you. I won't let anything change that. ↗
His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this. He was desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational urgency. He needed her. Like a starving man needed food. Like a dying man needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind. ↗
A wave of possessiveness came over him, almost frightening in its intensity. Mine. The thought of another man looking at her was almost enough to make him change his mind about leaving. ↗
Step one: Invade your opponet's mind. This is just like using mind-speak. Try it on me." "That's easy," I said, casting my mental nets toward Dante, ensnaring his mind, and pushing words into his conscious thought. I'm in your mind, having a look around, and it's awfully empty in here. Wiseacre, Dante returned. Nobody says that anymore. Speaking of which, how old are you in Nephilim years? I'd never thought to ask. I swore fealty during Napoleon's invasion of Italy-my homeland. And that was in what year...? Help me out. I'm not a history buff. Dante smiled. 1796. Wow. You're old. ↗
I don't have a car." His eyes sliced into mine. "I walked here," I explained. "I'm on foot." "Angel," he said in a way that sounded like he sincerely hoped I was joking. ↗
