De sangre y ceniza... Nos levantaremos.
I just didn’t want the Maiden to sound uneducated if any discussion were to arise about the Skotos Mountains,” he tacked on.
He exhaled heavily. “I don’t think I’ve told you this. I didn’t get the chance yet. When you asked me to kiss you under the willow? Deep down, I knew then that I would give you anything you asked for. I still will. Whatever you want,” he promised roughly, his fingers tangling in my hair. “You can have it. Anything. Everything. You can have it all. I will make sure of it.
Screaming for help.” Letting go of his sword, he ran a hand through his nearly white-blond hair. “It must’ve been the wind.” “Or your guilty conscience.” “Probably the wind.” I started toward him.
Sotoria didn’t belong to him then, and Seraphena doesn’t belong to him now.” Seraphena. I could count on one hand how many people called me by my full name, and none of them spoke it like he did. As if it were a prayer and a reckoning.
You always had your nose in a book at the dinner table.
I am many things. Decent is rarely one of them.
You’re absolutely magnificent. Beautiful.
Beauty was highly coveted and worshipped, flawlessness even more. Because beauty was considered godlike.
You’re giving me everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. You always have.
I’m your everything,” he whispered, curling his body around mine. “You’re my everything.
You are such a bad influence.” “I think we’ve already established that only the bad can be influenced.
I knew in my bones, Nadia would trust that no matter what, she wouldn’t hurt innocent people. She would believe in herself just as much as she believed in Luc. She sure as hell wouldn’t take the path of least resistance. She would explode right through any and all obstacles. And she’d do it dancing.
Why? Your hormones must be clouding your rational thought.” “My hormones are always clouding my rational thought, thank you very much.
Penellaphe, please, reveal yourself.
Good people didn’t stay silent. They were not complicit.
There are many times when I’m in utter awe of you.
And your scars? They are a testament of your fortitude. They are proof of what you survived. They are evidence of why you are here when so many twice your age wouldn’t be. They’re not ugly. Far from it. They’re beautiful.
You’re a gift. You’ve always been the most precious gift life has ever handed me. Can I ever be worthy of that?” he whispered. “Of you?
But before he died, he’d begun to realize that how someone was born and what they are didn’t dictate whether they were good or bad. Life, even for creatures we think don’t have the free will to choose between good and evil, isn’t the sum of DNA. Everyone is... a lot more complicated than that.