"Before you, nothing I ate had any taste." His mouth almost grazed mine. "All I could smell was death. Nothing but killing made me feel anything. Then you walked into my life." His hand slid under my jaw.
"And I don't see just gray. I feel, smell, taste, and want to fuck you in every color."

"You think the journal will tell us anything about the nectar?" Warwick stared off, his obvious switch of topics not lost on me.
"I hope... or maybe something about me. What I am."
His head turned in my direction. "What you are... is mine... Sotet démonom." His turquoise eyes flamed with a possessiveness.

"If you think I wouldn't choose your life over a fucking diary." The blade dropped from his hand to the bed. He seized my thighs, lifting me off my feet, curling my legs around his waist.
"Then you're not fuckin' getting it, princess. This world would be in shreds if anything happened to you."
Heat, rage, and violence throbbed between us.
There would be carnage.

Warwick didn't kiss. He devoured. Conquered.
Owned.
And I knew I would never have enough.

"I'm a legend. A warrior. Death can't fuckin' touch me... but I couldn't fight you."
"Maybe I'm death," I snapped back.
"No." His hand clamped down on the back of my head, bringing our faces an inch apart. His chest brushed my nipples, hardening them. "You feel like fucking life. Like air in my lungs."

Life and death.
It branded us.
Owned us.
Created us.
This man would consume me.
Devour and destroy me.
He'd burn me to the ground, but I would rise up from the ashes and demand more.

Mais je n'étais pas humaine non plus.
Quelque part entre les deux.
Comme la vie et la mort.
L'amour et la haine.

- Tu as besoin d'aide pour te déshabiller ? demanda-t-il avec un sourire amusé. Te laver les cheveux ? Te frictionner le corps ?
- C'est moi qui m'en occupe. Tu peux foutre le camp.
Profonde, rauque et vibrante de colère, la voix de Warwick avait retenti par-dessus l'épaule d'Ash.
Appuyé contre le montant de la porte, il
en occupait toute l'embrasure, braquant un regard noir sur la nuque de son ami.
Un grand sourire se dessina sur les lèvres de l'interpellé, qui s'éloigna.
- Je crois que je vais aller voir ce que je peux préparer pour le dîner. Je vais avoir besoin d'une longue marche jusqu'à mon potager, d'une très longue marche.

- N'oublie pas ça, Princesse : je suis un connard. En fait, je suis pire. Je suis la mort. Je me languis d'elle comme de l'air. (Il passa son pouce le long de mon menton, jusqu'à l'attache de ma gorge, et un frissola s'insinua dans mes veines.) Ce n'est pas pour rien si je suis une légende.
Tuer et baiser sont les seules choses que j'aime. Personne ne me contrôle. C'est moi qui contrôle.

Warwick me transperça du regard et la peur vida mes poumons. Je m'écartai de Zander.
- J'ai interrompu ta grande scène d'adieux avec l'autre âne? ironisa Warwick en s'appuyant nonchalamment d'une épaule aux barreaux de la grille.
Il mâchonnait un cure-dent. Il semblait détendu, mais toisait Zander d'un air menaçant.
- Je suis un cheval, répliqua ce dernier.
— C'est du pareil au même. Âne ou cheval, ça reste un con.

- Sais-tu comment préparer des demi-lunes au miel ?
— Si je... quoi ? (Il abaissa la carte.) Désolé de te décevoir, Kestrel, j'ai été bien des choses, mais jamais cuisinier.
- Tu sais bien faire du thé.
- Tu as bien conscience que faire bouillir de l'eau est à la portée de tout le monde ? sourit-il.
- Oh...
Gênée, Kestrel voulut s'en aller.
Qu'est-ce qui lui avait pris de poser une question aussi stupide ?
- Je veux dire, oui, intervint Arin. Oui, je sais comment préparer des demi-lunes.
— C'est vrai ?
- Euh... non. Mais on peut essayer.

- Bien sûr que je reviendrai. Je ne fais confiance à personne pour réciter mon éloge funèbre.
Elle sourit.
-Tu l'as déjà écrit?
- Bien sûr! Il est excellent. C'est incroyable combien il existe de synonymes pour « beau. ».

- La porter jusqu'à la rive était très judicieux, le complimenta Tamas,
- Très chevaleresque, ajouta Tolya. Comme les princes dans les poèmes épiques. Et alors ‘Ivan le Blond la prit dans ses bras pour’...
- Continue à réciter de la poésie et je te noie moi-même dans le lac, l'interrompit Tamar:
- C'est un classique, grommela Tolya, boudeur.

- Qu'est-ce que c'est?
Loin devant eux, Zoya vit une tache noire au sol. On aurait d l'ombre d'un banc de nuages, mais le ciel était dégagé.
- Un lac?
- Non, contredit Yuri. Un miracle.
Zoya fut tentée de le faire passer par-dessus bord.
- Pour toi, même un robinet qui fuit est un miracle.

"I love you," I whisper. "You could throw my entire world into upheaval, and I would still love you. You could keep secrets,
run a revolution,
frustrate the shit out of me, probably ruin me, and I would still love you. I can't make it stop. I don't want to. You're my gravity. Nothing in my world works without you."
"Gravity," he whispers, a slow, beautiful smile curving his mouth.
"The one force we can never escape," I tease.

"How could you ever love someone like her?"
"I didn't." He shrugs. "You are the first and only woman I've ever loved."

"I was wondering if you..."
He cringes, then sighs. "Never mind."
"He wants you to teach him how to sign," Ridoc finishes, rocking back on his heels in clear boredom.
"Ridoc!" Sawyer glares his way.
"What? You made that way more painful than it had to be. For fuck's sake, it was like you were leading up to asking her out or something." He visibly shudders.
"What if he had been?" I counter.
"Then I'd be stuck cleaning little pieces of him off our shared floor when Riorson ripped him to shreds." Ridoc shakes his head. "So messy."

"You're impossible to impress."
"I'm a dragon, a Black Morningstartail.
The descendent of-"
"Yeah, yeah." I cut him off before he makes me recite his entire lineage.

"She makes a good point,"
Andarna agrees.
"Can you
carry a luminary?"
"That question insults me.
"Can you carry a luminary while insulted?" she prods.
Tairn growls.

"You want to know something true?
Something real? I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been since the night the snow fell in your hair and you kissed me for the first time. I'm grateful my life is tied to yours because it means I won't have to face a day without you in it. My heart only beats as long as yours does, and when you die, I'll meet Malek at your side. It's a damned good thing that you love me, too, because you're stuck with me in this life and every other that could possibly follow."

"You're not going to argue? Or tell me there's another way?"
"Me? Argue with you about books?" He shakes his head, sliding his hand to my cheek. "I only pick fights I can win."

"I told you in Aretia-I would rather lose this entire war than live without you."

Everyone looks my way.
Here we go. "I'm in love with Xaden Riorson." Mira. Them. I seem to be able to say the words to anyone who isn't Xaden.
"Hate to break it to you, but that's not a secret," Ridoc says, shaking his head. "Yes, it is," I argue, my grip tightening on the mug.
"No," Sawyer chimes in. "It'S
really not."
"Hasn't been for a while," Rhi adds, giving me the first real smile I've seen from her in while.

"I thought not. Sleep, Violet." His arm tightens around me. "You love me," he whispers.
"Stop reminding me. I thought we agreed not to fight tonight." I snuggle in deeper, his warmth lulling me into that sweet middle space between wakefulness and oblivion.
"Maybe you're not the one
I'm reminding."

"Tell me something real." It comes out as a plea, just like it did last year.
He sighs and curls around me. "I know who you really are, Violet. Even when you keep things from me, I know you," he promises.

“I mean it's weird that he's writing you letters."
"Why? I think it's...sweet."
"Exactly. Does he strike you as a letters kind of guy?" She shakes her head. "He's not even a talking kind of guy."