Quotessence
Home / Topics / Dark Romance Quotes

Dark Romance Quotes

Browse 526 quotes about Dark Romance.

Dark Romance Quotes

“Trevor could almost see the invisible gas leaking from the broken furnace, billowing around his body, wafting in his wake from the laundry room to the living room, seeking out the nostrils of the realtor, the yuppies, the toddler, and every other goddamn trespasser before seeping into their bloodstream and infecting their cells until they dizzied, ached, barfed, and fell to the floor like a bunch of— He caught himself. He breathed through his nose. He pushed away the hate, calmed the tornado strangling his gut, and thought of HER.”

“Trevor climbed once again to the land of the living, naked except for an antique gas mask strapped to his face. As he peered through glass eyes like a mutant fly and breathed through the alien snoot, a single thought coiled through the booby-trapped labyrinth of his brain: I need to be alone. I need to be alone. I need to be alone.”

“The whirlwind in his brain—which had so many times tugged his pituitary in ways that made him TAKE instead of GIVE— subsided for the very first time. Tightness in his crotch usually corresponded with a tightness in his gut, making him want to CONTROL, to CHOKE, to SUBDUE... but not this time. Not ever again.”

“You have haunted me in my dreams, Followed me in my memory, And enamoured me… …Nirvana… Your name echoes in the most silent parts of my mind, Brought to life by the memory of your touch, And the gentle sway of our bodies to the jazz music You have become my obsession, Of which I will never tire. Salvatore”

“I thought I was the one ruining her innocence. But it was her. She was the one who came into my life to ruin me. To ruin the king of California’s underworld. To ruin Alessio, the man every fucking person in this state fears. To take a man who had always been free and bind him to her.”

“She would hate him even more if she knew all the depraved things he’d done. The fantasies, the stalking, the fucking obsession. That he had used her shampoo to jerk off and stolen her clothes, her lipstick. That when she wasn’t around, he had sometimes lain in her bed and imagined what it would be like to touch her the way she said she’d wanted to be touched in her journal. And of course, he had watched her touch herself. Every catch of her breath, every discreet rustle of fabric, every teasing glimpse of brown skin—he had seen it all, and taken it as a sign that not even Jay was immune to pleasure. And, more importantly, that he could give it to her. He could be the one to make her come.”

“I could have the world’s best painter try to recreate what I’m looking at right now,” he began, those soulless eyes looking across my face, unbothered by whatever I had to say, “and he could never truly capture you as beautiful as you are right now, my little mouse.”

“I am beyond sick...sick with love, with lust, with worry, with jealousy, with envy, with hatred, with anger, with resentment...I am so sick with it all and it is all for you...everything I feel, I feel about you. Everything I have done, I have done for you" he said as if justifying his actions. Her tears falling now, she needed to get him to let her go...”

“Jay was neither a small woman, nor a passive one, which suited Nick just fine because he had no use for either. No, underneath all that cool reserve of hers was something hot and bright that he wanted all to himself, something that infused her moral correctitude with a warmth that belied her restraint. He looked up to find her watching him and very deliberately pressed his mouth to the back of her hand before allowing her to free it. That was the price. Control—or the absence of it. He was going to make her lose it all.”

“He inches towards me, head shaking and eyes roaming as though overwhelmed by what he is seeing. "Oh, bu you are my undoing. My deliverance. My downfall disguised as a deity". Anther slow step. "You are my ruin." I'm dazed, unable to do anything but let a smile tug at my lips. "Call us even. Call me crazy. I don't care. Just..." His eyes are pleading, brimming with emotion. "Just call me yours.”

“Men are supposed to protect their women from harm and the harsh, evil world. But what is a girl to do when the evil inhabits her own home? When the depraved monster forces her to spread her legs and take him inside like a meek, compliant wife, and beats her when she doesn’t? She plans a murder, that’s what she does.”

“Over the last year, Malachi has changed from a boy to a young man. For seventeen, he looks twenty with a chiseled jaw, long lashes, and bright, diamond-like blue eyes. He has muscles that are starting to become noticeable through his clothes, and he loves to run. He once signed to me that it helps clear his head.Sometimes, we run together. We’ll listen to the same song—usually Taylor Swift if I choose, or Bad Omens if he does—then we’ll sit by the lake and watch the sunrise before we go home and get ready for school.All my friends want to kiss him. He’s the quiet, mysterious Malachi Vize that everyone wants a piece of. It sickens me—especially when they go into detail in the group chat about things I’d rather not read. He’s not popular—he’s the “silent weirdo,” yet they say things behind his back because they’re too scared to say anything to his face.”

“Sorry’s just a word to try to get out of something, to dodge trouble if you’ve been caught out. Sorry’s a five-letter disgrace that shouldn’t even need to be used. It should be abolished from the f*cking dictionary. Actions do speak louder than words, and if she’s as sorry as she makes out in her voicemails, then why does she sometimes look happy? Why is she going out partying with her friends? Kissing guys who—shockingly—vanish days later? Why does she dance around her apartment, singing ridiculous songs about love? Why is she living her life without me? If the b*tch is sorry, then why is she only looking me up on the internet and not hunting for me? Why isn’t she looking for me? It f*cking irks me that she didn’t visit me, not once. I refused any and all visitation from others, but I asked her to come and see me. I wrote to her the first two years, waiting patiently for a written reply, a presence, a smile to my f*cking face that never came. She left me in there to rot. Well, little sister, no need to look for me anymore. I’m right here, and I intend to stick around until I’ve broken you.”