I wake up every day with a single imperative: live. By any means necessary. The only way Death will ever get his slimy bastard hands on me is over my dead body.
Bloody talk about bloody orgasms with your own bloody woman not mine,” Barrons said tightly. “You don’t know a thing about her orgasms and never will.
Why should I let you take it?” “Because you owe me.” “Why do I owe you?” “Because I put up with you.
I’ve always known what you need. Someone to rage at who’s strong enough to take all the pain and fury you have to dish out until you’ve burned it out of your system and nothing is left but a pile of ashes from which the Phoenix rises. Kid, woman, whatever the hell you are – I want to see you rise. Even if you have to hate me.
I’m a moth to his flame and it frightens me how willingly I’d burn my wings off for him. Destroy the world. Follow him to Hell. It’s scary to feel like you can’t breathe without someone.
Love doesn’t build cages. It builds stairways to the stars.
Have you been in a fight? No, let me guess; you saved a wounded dog, again?” I said dryly. That was the excuse he’d used last time. “I had a nosebleed.” “Nosebleed, my petunia.” “Petunia?” “Ass, Barrons. As in you are one.
Easy, wild thing.
Failure is always new information, and those who are willing to suffer it repeatedly make it a stepping-stone to success.
I looked from one to the other, and realized that Barrons and my dad were having one of those wordless conversations he and I have from time to time. Though the language was, by nature, foreign to me, I grew up in the Deep South where a man’s ego is roughly the size of his pickup truck, and women get an early and interesting education in the not-so-subtle roar of testosterone.
Sun, moon, and stars.
I want this world. I want you.
The corners of his mouth twitched then he gave up the ghost and just flashed me one of those rare, full-on smiles that always made me catch my breath and stare. He’s so damn beautiful and his smiles are sunshine in a black velvet sky, improbable and stunning.
I love you, Dani Mega O’Malley,” Dancer said against my ear as he moved inside me. “More than the world is big. Deeper than the sky is blue. Truer than the universe is vast. I love you more eternal than pi.
He moves in, standing close without touching. He doesn’t need to. I sometimes think our atoms are so glad to see each other that they send little messengers back and forth, ferrying desire, strength, and love between the islands we are.
You’re not pretty. Goddamn it, Dani. You’re beautiful.
Feathers. Bloody hell, he hadn’t seen that one coming when he’d considered his future. Like a goddamn chicken.
Unpredictable, high-tempered, happy on her own, and nearly untamable, she was a challenge to seduce. It hadn’t helped that he was broody, arrogant, selfish, and a god. She didn’t want a soul mate, she told him. And she certainly didn’t want one with wings and an attitude problem.
Love is funny. Even though you don’t have that person anymore, you still have the feeling. You didn’t lose your LOVE. You lost the tangible, tactile, sense-sational ability to experience the person or animal you lost.
Depression gets you nowhere but tangled in an overgrown garden that can choke the life out of you.