I wanted to walk beside this man for a long time, and to do that I’d have to be able to be completely myself.
Fear translates to hesitation, and hesitation kills.
Ryodan made me question myself and pushed me to be the most I could be.
Power is not good or evil. It is what it is in the hands of the wielder.
You had no right.” “Ah, the morally outraged cry of the weak: You’re not ‘allowed’ to do that. One is allowed to do anything one can get away with. Only when you understand that will you know your place in this world. And your power. Might is right.
I learned young that moments of comedy during the horror show can be a life raft, enough to keep you bobbing in a violent, killing sea.
Every morning he comes to the top of the stairs and looks down over the club and he stands there, so big and powerful and beautiful and... ” She swallows hard like her mouth just went totally dry. “Sexy. God, so unbelievably sexy.” Her eyes get a weird, intense look like she’s remembering something, then she makes a soft noise and doesn’t say anything for a second.
To who? Your god may love soul mates but man does not. Such a couple is vulnerable, particularly if they are fool enough to let the world see how shiny and happy they are. Their risk rises tenfold during times of war. There are two courses a couple in such circumstances can chart: go deep into the country and hide as far from humanity as possible, hoping like hell nobody finds them. Because the world will tear them apart.” He is wrong. He knows nothing of soul mates.
Sometimes the most heroic action you can take looks a lot like inaction to the rest of the world. Sometimes the hardest, longest walk is the one the white-hat takes offstage.
When did grief end? Did it ever? Or did you just get numb from hurting yourself on it so many times?
Breath was everything. When nothing else could be done: one could breathe and shape and infuse that breath with strength and purpose.
Did he think I would beg him to stay? Never. People had to want to stay, choose to be with you, or it meant nothing.
He was a broad-shouldered beast.
I’m restless, bored, and invisible. A dangerous thing for any woman to be.
I wasn’t normal and it wasn’t a normal world, and pretending wasn’t going to accomplish a thing.
I’ll be a straitjacketed bookworm burrowed into the binding of an insane, homicidal book, staring helplessly out from the pages of my own life, as they’re writ by someone else, and I’d commit atrocities that would damn a saint’s soul.
Love? Can I even feel it anymore? I’ve hated everyone and everything around me since the moment I began to change. I ran from those who cared about me. I concede it’s possible my hatred hastened the changes, fed the wrong things, starved the right ones. But love? To feel it here and now? I’m not sure it’s even possible. Och, but of course it is.
Cease ceasing movement so abruptly! Christ, woman, must you catapult forward after each cessation? Are you certain you’ve strapped the mirror securely? We should stop and check it. By Danu, wench, try nudging this beast gently, not kicking it with both heels! A silence, a slew of choked curses, then: Horses! What the bloody hell is wrong with horses? Have they all been slain in battle?
Haud yer wheesht, woman.” “Hold my what?” “It means ‘hush,’ Jessica. Just hush. Would it kill you to hush?
Tell me not to kiss you, Jessica. Tell me right now. And best you make me believe you mean it,” he warned softly, a breath from her lips. “Don’t kiss me.” She wet her lips. “Try again,” he said flatly. “Don’t kiss me.” She swayed toward his body, a magnet to steel. “Try again,” he hissed. “And best ’ware, woman, ’tis your last chance.” Jessi took a deep breath. “Don’t.” Another deep breath. “Kiss me?” He laughed, a cocky, rich purr of a sound.