I Always Like To Play With Fire Mga Nobela at Kwento

Well, she'd always liked to play with fire. Let her burn.

He added quickly, angrily, as if hating the softness in himself: “Don’t make me regret it.” Then he turned away, leaving Elara with the unspoken truth burning between them— The Fire King was not cold. He was burning too hot to touch.

“But fire is fun.” I yank on his hand gently to make sure I have his attention. “No. Fire is dangerous. Fire hurts people. It can burn you and melt your skin right off like butter. Do you understand?” He nods, but I see a flare of defiance in there. It makes me sigh. This will not be his last fire. Not by a long shot. “If you want to play with fire, you have to wait and only do it with me or Dad, okay? Promise me.”

I sound like an idiot even to me. I think I should take a sick leave or something today and stay home. Because if I get in my car, I know where I am going to end up. Right now I can come up with the world’s most absurd excuse to see him again. I know I speak like a drug addict, the moment I got sight of the drug I get ecstatic. I don’t know if this is all right or wrong. But is it so wrong to want to be happy just once?

Hahaha. You wish, you’ll never be able to touch me. I hate dirty chicks. Playing a fire with them and their life is not even at risk but also their house, they’re ruining it. Wanna play with me? Oh? She seems to have interest with me. I can see it in her eyes. Hahaha. Sure, take the bait for you to finally vanish in this world. Somehow, I also get my Dad’s personality. I am a demonic joker. Don’t try to fool me. Never.

"You're playing with fire." "I like fire." Cassandra stared at her reflection in the mirror. "Fire burns enemies. And fire… warms those who are loyal." Alexei didn't answer. He just leaned down and kissed the top of her head—a gesture too intimate for a mere fling. Cassandra let him.

He laughed softly, she was testing him, messing with him, if only she knew that she was playing with fire. "Cattivella, you're playing with fire and fire was built for only one thing... To burn.

She always does. That woman resists me at every turn, firing back with those sharp words and sharper looks. She’s a wildfire, always ready to consume and reduce a man to ash. But me? I’m built to tame flames. I’ll snuff her out and enjoy the burn while I’m at it. The thought pulled a low snicker out of me as I stepped out of the car.

I turned away from the flames that had kept me sane the whole night she spoke. There was just something about the flames that thrilled me and not because I was an arsonist of some sort but because I was always fucked up since I was a kid. Just think something like fire, some sort of dancing wind could destroy everything in its path without even blinking. And when it was fierce, stoked, louder, nothing could stop it, not even water. And in the fire, I saw myself, I was the flames destroying everything in its path, taking everything and leaving nothing in its wake.

“And I want that one" I pointed to the fire tattoo design hanging on the wall among others. The flames were so vivid, so delicate, there were even tendrils of smile rising from them. Fuck that butterfly, I was going to be fire, and I would burn them all.