#achilleius

"I don't want you to worry about me," she admitted. "You need to focus tonight." [...] The corner of her lip twitched, like she might tear up, but she didn’t. If I ever thought I couldn’t do something with her, then I wasn’t doing it at all. “Your place is at my side,” I told her. “Say it.” She whispered, “My place is at your side.” “Louder.” I shook her gently, but my tone was firm. “My woman doesn’t ask permission. She’s a force. Say it louder.” Her chin started to tremble, but her voice burst out strong. “My place is at your side.” And I kissed her, making sure she fucking believed it. She was always wanted.

@booknet Event 01 | Favourite Character | Circe

read in 2019: the understatement of the year by sarina bowen 

Ivy’s sweater slipped off her left shoulder when she leaned forward, baring skin of golden cream to the morning sunlight. “Okay, I get that.” She didn’t notice when he nudged the sweater back in place with [telekinesis], the temperature too cold for her to be so exposed. [...] “How did they know your subdesignation so fast?” Her sweater slipped again and he nudged it back. “It usually takes time to be certain, even with genetic markers.” [...] Vasic glanced at her shoulder, nudged the sweater back up. This time, she noticed, color on her cheeks as her hand went up to the spot. “How many times?” “Five.” He got to his feet before he could make it six. “I need to rest.”

“I know you want to protect me,” she whispered, long, slender fingers spreading over his heart. “I can feel your need in every pulse of your blood.” “I can’t promise that I won’t check up on you every so often during your shifts,” Hawke admitted, because it would’ve been a lie of monumental proportions to do otherwise, “but every part of me understands who you are.” Not simply his mate, but a dangerous, beautiful woman with her own dreams and desires. It would’ve been easier if she’d been someone else, a woman who followed his every dictate and who never put herself in harm’s way. But he didn’t want easier, didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Sienna. Only Sienna.

A deep breath moves through him like a sigh, and then he blinks as though coming out of a fog. When he looks at me again, his eyes are bright, like green glass in the sun. A man’s eyes shouldn’t be that expressive. It makes a woman forget to keep up her defenses. “Stells,” he whispers, “where have you been all my life?” A lump rises in my throat. “Drifting.” The corner of his lip quirks. “Well, stop. Don’t drift away.” “Okay.” It’s a croak of sound, my chest too tight for more. His expression twists and becomes pained. “You wouldn’t be so quick to agree if you really knew what I was thinking.”