Deep, dark unearthly black. I hadn't told anyone yet, but the color kept streaking across my mind at the oddest moments. When it did, my skin shivered pleasantly, and it was as if I could feel the color tracing a finger tenderly along my jaw, tipping my chin up to face it directly. I knew it was absurd to think a color would come to life, but once or twice, I was sure I'd caught a flash of something more substantial behind the color. A pair of eyes. The way they studied me cut to the heart.

It’s so real." "Most dreams are. It isn't until you wake up that you see all the plot holes.

If we're doing this for ten hours, I'm going to need a little incentive to stay motivated." Patch hooked his elbow around my neck and dragged me into a kiss. "Every time you strip my sword, I owe you a kiss. How's that sound?" I bit my lip to keep from giggling. "That sounds really dirty." Patch waggled his eyebrows. "Look whose mind just rolled into the gutter. Two kisses per strip. Any objections?" I pulled on an innocent face. "None whatsoever.

That’s an unfortunate place for a birthmark,” I said, more than a little unnerved that it was so similarly positioned to my own scar. Patch casually but noticeably slid his sleeve down over his wrist. “You’d prefer it someplace more private?” “I wouldn’t prefer it anywhere.” I wasn’t sure how this sounded and tried again. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t have it at all.” I tried a third time. “I don’t care about your birthmark, period.

I’m doing boy detox. Like a diet, only for my emotional health.

His muscles flexed under his clothes, holding me, leading me. Never letting me stray far.

All this time I've hated myself for it. I thought I'd given it up for nothing. But if I hadn't fallen, I wouldn't have met you.