@kaia

@kaia i regret doing this, but:

Dr. Darius Bloodthorne stood at seven feet two inches of rippling, glistening, impossibly vascular masculinity, his eight-pack abs visible through his surgical scrubs which were, for reasons unknown, made of Italian silk and permanently damp. He had performed fourteen successful heart transplants that morning — with his eyes closed, while humming a Mozart concerto — because he was not only the world’s most brilliant surgeon but also the world’s most brilliant everything. His eyes glowed red, then gold, then a seductive shade of midnight plum, because he was simultaneously a vampire, a werewolf, and something older, something darker, something the text would never explain but would mention at least forty more times. His jawline could cut glass. His jawline had cut glass. A nurse once touched his jawline and was hospitalized for lacerations. He owned seventeen hospitals, a private island, and the concept of Thursday.

And then she walked in — Clarity Innocence Storm, a clumsy but beautiful girl who had never been beautiful until she took off her glasses, which she did now, slowly, and her eyes were the color of a color that didn’t exist yet, a color so beautiful that two orderlies wept and a vending machine spontaneously dispensed free snacks. She tripped over nothing and fell directly into his arms, which were, and this is critical, so big. “I’m just a normal girl,” she whispered, her voice like a bell made of honey, “who definitely doesn’t have a mysterious ancient bloodline that makes me the only one who can tame your cursed dual nature.” Darius’s fangs elongated. His claws extended. His wolf ears sprouted. His vampire cape billowed indoors despite zero wind. “You are mine,” he growled-purred-hissed-moaned, and the walls of the hospital cracked, and every patient in every bed sat up simultaneously and said “oh no he’s hot,” and Clarity knew — she knew — that this beautiful monster would either destroy her or save her or both, repeatedly, in a series of events that would somehow span forty-seven books.