Page 175 of The Thief
"I need you to remember something."
"What's that?"
"This. Us. How it feels to be loved without condition."
"Why?"
"Because there will be other nights like tonight. Other monsters who need killing. And I need you to know that no matter how dark it gets, no matter what you have to do, you'll always have this to come home to."
I pull back to look at her, studying the fierce determination in her eyes.
"You're not going anywhere?" I ask.
"Where would I go? You're my home, Freddie. The only one that matters."
"Even knowing what I am?"
"Especially knowing what you are."
The water's cold now, but neither of us moves to shut it off. We're too caught up in each other, in the relief of being together and safe and whole.
"I killed him with my bare hands," I tell her quietly.
"Good."
"I tore his throat out like an animal."
"He deserved worse."
"I felt nothing. No guilt, no regret. Just satisfaction."
"As you should."
Her easy acceptance of my violence, of the monster that lives inside me, is almost overwhelming. Most people would be horrified. She's proud.
"You're incredible," I murmur.
"I'm yours."
"Yes, you are."
I kiss her again, softer this time. Grateful. The water's turned cold enough to make us both shiver, so I finally reach around her to shut it off.
"Come on," I say. "Let's get you warm."
We dry off together, her hands gentle as she tends to the cut on my arm. It's not deep; barely needs the stitches she insists on giving it, but I let her fuss. She needs to take care of me as much as I need to be taken care of.
"There," she says, tying off the bandage. "Good as new."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not being afraid of me."
"I am afraid of you." She looks up, meeting my eyes. "But not in the way you think."
"What way then?"
