As he looked at me, he seemed to send a message of his own: that he would still fight for me, that he would fight until he collapsed to keep them from taking me.
What are you, Rose Hathaway? Are you real? You're a dream within a dream. I'm afraid touching you will make me wake up. You'll disappear.
Everything's about my personal entertainment. The world is my stage. Keep it up- you're becoming a star performer in the show.
But it's not the name I'd give to a conqueror of worlds... I would've gone with Thundro or Ragnor. I might just call him Thundro anyway.
How do you know it was the blighted pile? Did you recognize Maiwenn’s gift?” “No, but there was a marble bust of Dorian in there, which I figured must have been his kingdom’s ‘humble’ gift.
Adrian, I'm on a date. Why are you here? On my car?
I can’t have it either. It affects the babies in utero.” “Nonsense,” he said, tossing his long auburn hair over one shoulder. Life would be easier if he wasn’t so damned good-looking. “Why, my mother drank wine every day, and I turned out just fine.” “I think you’re proving my point for me,” I said dryly
Later, I would ask Shaya to help me compose a formal response to Katrice's letter, something a long the lines of "I am the Thorn Queen. F*** Off.
You're in an awfully good mood," he observed. "Was there a sale at Khakis-R-Us?
Adrian's face was the picture of perfect politeness and restraint, meaning something disastrous was about to happen.
Who knows more about male weakness: you or me? Use my knowledge, Sage.
I’m not a warrior or a goddess,” I said at last. Adrian leaned closer. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re both.
The bond was so strange at times. Jill was jealous on Adrian's behalf.
Don’t take the high ground and assume you already know what you’ll do. The truth is, when it comes to someone you love, you’ll find there isn’t anything you won’t do.
I didn’t care about anything except her and the way touching her drove me wild, even as her calm and steady presence soothed the storms that raged within me.
Oh, so that's why you're up here. For a pity party." "This isn't a joke. I'm serious." I could tell Lissa was getting angry. It was trumping her earlier distress. He shrugged and leaned casually against the sloping wall. "So am I. I love pity parties. I wish I'd brought the hats. What do you want to mope about first? How it's going to take you a whole day to be popular and loved again? How you'll have to wait a couple weeks before Hollister can ship out some new clothes? If you spring for rush shipping, it might not be so long.
Okay, God, I thought. Get me out of this and I’ll stop my half-assed church-going ways. You got me past a pack of Strigoi tonight. I mean, trapping that one between the doors really shouldn't have worked, so clearly you're on board. Let me get out of here, and I’ll...I don’t know. Donate Adrian’s money to the poor. Get baptized. Join a convent. Well, no. Not that last one.
I'm really not good with impulse control.
I had a standing arrangement with God: I'd agree to believe in him—barely—so long as he let me sleep in on Sundays.
Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go.
Do you want me to call you Celery Stick instead of Cupcake or Honey-Pie? It just doesn’t inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings.
Throughout history, people with new ideas—who think differently and try to change things—have always been called troublemakers.
However, he also trusted me to make my own decisions. Contradicting me or telling me what to do wasn't in his nature - even though he secretly may have wanted to.
If you touch me, I said pleasantly, "I'll provide you with the ability to see if you can heal yourself. Then we'd see how bad ass you really are."
I stared. "Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?
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