With kindness, you brighten the world. With cruelty, you darken yourself.
I’m living my happily-ever-after already,” he replied, and she smiled. “In shadow, you are my light.” With their foreheads pressed together, she responded in kind. “In ice, you are my warmth.” “In life and in death, your love guides me home.” He kissed her. “In war, you are my prize. In darkness, you are my sun.
I’ve been told history is written by survivors, but I know that isn’t always true. My name is Tenley Lockwood and very soon, I’ll be dead. This is my story – but my end is only the beginning.
Seriously. She’d beaten that Unspoken One like morning wood with the same end result: an explosion.
He popped his jaw, trying to relax against a new onslaught of aggression. It wasn’t as if he were the only one to suffer, he reminded himself. The other warriors had their own demons – literally and figuratively. Torin, of course, was keeper of Disease. Lucien was keeper of Death. Reyes, of Pain. Aeron, of Wrath. Paris, of Promiscuity. Why couldn’t he have been given that last one?
It was common knowledge that big, bad city boys spent the bulk of their time sleeping around, coiffing their hair and posting pictures of food on the internet.
Why are you hitting yourself, Jessie Kay? Huh? Huh? Why?
Don’t try to stay ten moves ahead of your opponent. Stay behind him with a knife.
Cold-blooded? Oh, no. This man suddenly burned.
Nothing and no one had ever belonged to him and only him – except Legion. Not that she would do anything necessary to save him, nor would he do anything necessary to save her. But. Yeah, there was always a but with him. He had been her first lover – and he wanted to be her last.
One fox in the henhouse. In two days, he’ll try to eat his mouse. Two days have passed. Today is the day. Anytime now. Three, yes, three warnings will come. By four five six, you’ll be glum. Look, look, look, for the seven. Eight, nine, Ten is in heaven...
Until I’ve finished touching all of you, I’ll be as selfish as I please... and you’ll like it.
The customer is always right, Brook Lynn often said. And Jessie Kay agreed... unless the customer was a douche bag, and then he was just a douche bag.
What? My gastrointestinal clock was ticking. I wanted a food baby.
There’s no use going back to yesterday.
The world could be a conniving harlot, as evil as a demon, but love would defeat her, every single time. Love never failed.
She knelt beside him. “Now, do you see this?” She plucked a weed from the dirt. “It and everything like it are weeds. Weeds are bad. But those,” she said, pointing to the flower stems, “those are good. Right now, bad is murdering good, so we’ve got to go to war and help.” Horror dawned on his features. “A fancy way of saying I am to... garden?” He shuddered. “You’ll be doing more than that, thank you. You’ll be saving something beautiful.
We’re gonna lie when the truth is hard? That’s how this relationship is going to work? All righty, then.
A man devoted time to what mattered to him – to what he deemed worthy of his attention.
All I want from a man is everything and nothing at the same but different times, sometimes and never but always.