"Your lips taste like peaches and cream, much better then drugs."
The instrument was cold, freezing his skin as she heard the dark beat of his heart.
It always seemed to be beating like it would jump out of his chest and say hello.
"Yours taste like ash, and blood. What you call a kiss, was nothing, Gabriel. I was told to sedate you, and I ran out of darts, so I had to do the next best thing. What you felt was not love, or fireworks, it was me shocking you through your lips, and nothing else."
Throughout the week, she had been forced to tend to Sylar, check him everyday to make sure he was alive and well, even if she herself wanted to see him dead and buried.
'Daddy' had done this to punish her for her last assignment, and she didn't want to make him angry with her.
But right now she would rather be tracking down Peter, then keeping Sylar from touching her lips and hair.
"Oh you enjoyed it, my dark angel."
He reached out grasping a fist full of her blond ringlets in hand, and devoured her lips with his.
Sylar let out a deep scream as his whole body was inflamed with pain; blue sparks were flying everywhere, deep underneath his skin.
"Don't kiss what you can't handle."