Ships are my arrows, the sea my bow, the world my target.
I steal from the rich to give to myself.
Satan’s hairy ass!
He grabbed my chin, pulling me towards him. ‘In my dreams,’ he told me, his voice still as hard and cold as an iceberg, ‘more interesting things happen. Things that involve the two of us’.
Knowledge is power. Knowledge is time. Knowledge is money. Meaning that if I shared knowledge, it would be tantamount to sharing power or money.
Yes, and you did it spectacularly. They were the best non words ever not spoken.
I’m evil, know it, and enjoy it.
I love you like the devil loves his pitchfork. I love you like the angel loves his wings. I love you from here to heaven, through hell and back again.
Life is not about living the safer option,’ I told him sleepily. ‘Life is about living a life worth living.’ ‘You.
Do you still want me to go to hell? I must admit, I don’t know the way.
The first dance for the first woman I knew, the last one for the last. You may not have been the first woman in my life, Miss Linton – but I promise you, you will be the last. There won’t be anyone else as long as I live.
You burn hot enough to light an ocean on fire.
You are my little Ifrit.′ His voice travelled up to me right through his chest, deep and strong. ‘How could I possibly say no?
I’m an ifrit! What’s a bit of snow to me? Let’s fly on wings of fire!
The country was a nice thing, as long as it was in the middle of town and you could reach a civilized place with shops, libraries and newspapers within five minutes or so.
I was a city girl, and the few trees and lawns of Green Park were as much country as I could deal with at any given time.
A smile spread across her face and somehow managed to light up the entire room. If only one could use smiles as ingredients in my candle-factory.
Because anything I give away is a weapon that can be used against me. But when you’re close... I want to have things I never knew I needed. And I want to give parts of myself away I never knew I had.
It was the first time I had ever heard Rikkard Ambrose stutter. The first and probably the last.
My God, did they gag you?’ ‘Ymm!’ ‘Smart people.
You have a strange definition of “fun”, Mr Linton.’ ‘And you don’t have one at all.’ ‘Mr Linton?’ ‘Yes, Sir?’ ‘Be quiet.’ ‘Yes, Sir!