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Loving someone meant letting them be who they were, not caging them

Melissa Marr

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Melissa Marr
Age: 52
Born: 1972
Born: July 25
Author
Fantasy Author
Novelist
Teacher
Writer
Pennsylvania
United States
M. A. Marr
Melissa A Marr
Someone
Letting
Loving
Meant

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Have you ever tried? No. Then don't tell me I can't.
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With a strange half-mocking tone, Aislinn said, It's not just guys like those today. Even the pretty ones can be awful. Don't trust them just because they're pretty. Donia laughed, coldly, sounding every bit Beira's creature in that moment. Where were you when I needed that advice? I've already gone out with the biggest mistake a girl can ma
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His blue-black hair fell over his face when he moved, like tiny arrows pointing to pronounced cheeckbones. Starting to think you were going to bail on me. Didn't know you were expecting me, she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. He gets sexier every day. Not Expecting, but hoping. Always hoping
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I don't know if you realize it or not, but your sudden devotion to her is creepy.
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You already gave me forever, Aislinn. I'm asking for a chance at right now.
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We are what we are, neither a good or as bad as others paint us. And what we are doesn't change how truly we feel, only how free we are to follow those feelings.
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You're an idiot, she whispered tearfully. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms. For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, Are you dead too?
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I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” he whispered. “Lucky them.
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You say potato I say potahto... I say integrity you say deceit.
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As if fixing the little errors would made the big stuff manageable.
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That's what the court needs-a happy king, a king who can't stop dreaming of being lost in someone who wants to be just as lost. Tell me you'll let me get lost in you.
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She turned so they were face-to-face and gave him back the words he'd offered her their first night together: I survived. Isn't that what matters?
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Writing is not just the technical act of your fingers on the keyboard. Writing is living.
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I'd stop anyone from taking that smile from you. I would, if I were allowed.
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Chase away sorrow by living
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The Summer King stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Can you offer me your fidelity? Your heart and your body and your companionship for eternity? Do you want my fidelity? Either love me or kiss me goodbye, my Summer Queen.
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Seth gave her that: a private space to believe in the illusion of normalcy.
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Faeries are equally loyal and deceitful.
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He didn't slam the door, didn't rage, didn't weep, he simply left.
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Like chaos in a glass cage.
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