"The shortness of his breath is brought from the quick tapping of his feet and not by the gentle tendrils of her hair that escaped from the lively dance, brushing against the curve of her neck and begging for a lover's touch. And his heart beats as frantically as the pace set by her own-able to feel it drum against him while she is pressed as she is so sweetly to his chest-because of the music; not because of...something else..." -- Coeurs de Velours A romance set during the tumult of the French Revolution.

Veronica buried her head between her knees, trying to draw breaths steadily through her nose, and her body shook for a second as he confessed to her, her head rising and whipping towards him with an anger he'd yet to witness. "I'm not Margot, Will. You can't soothe me with pretty words and promises of love. I want you to go, and you're going to leave." Her lip wobbled and her cheeks were shining with tears. "Because I don't love you."

"Why do you keep the diaries of the people you've killed?" She asked him, the innocence in her eyes enticed him. He would show her all of the bad in the world, this was only his first step. "I feel like I should at least take the time to get to know them," He replied, his calloused fingers flipping through the pages of a diary, Target #97. He recalled each detail of each execution, each assassination. His lush green eyes lifted to meet her warm hazel ones, curiosity pushed through her eyes, showing him all he needed to know. "After they're dead?" Hazel asked again, she was still hesitant reading someones thoughts, especially knowing each of them had done something terrible to humanity. "Death is only an illusion, kitten. The person still exists in our minds." Ash responded, analyzing each movement of the blonde across from him. Every ounce within him pulsed with confusion, she was the one person he had never understood. That scared him. - Top Ranking: #3 in dark #1 in twisted