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"Truth was she liked that he came after her. She liked the thought of being under submission to him in an intimate way. It was a welcome desire which Wharick alone sparked."
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"I can't leave her now. I like her too much. There, I said it. But I won't say it again."
"You all right?" he said again.I didn't love him, I was far away from him, it was as though I was seeing him through a smeared window or glossy paper; he didn't belong here. But he existed, he deserved to be alive. I was wishing I could tell him how to change so he could get there, the place where I was."Yes," I said. I touched him on the arm with my hand. My hand touched his arm. Hand touched arm. Language divides us into fragments, I wanted to be whole."
"I shivered as the cold was all encompassing, not just from being outdoors, but from being read as well. He had a way of seeing through me. It was as unnerving as it was bonding and I couldn't figure out how the two could co-exist."
"One's first love is the most transformative and least replicable experience. I could love someone else, but it would be its own unfathomable emotion. It would not be this precious, first, spring love. If I cannot love her fully, it will be a love that corrodes within me."
"However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were. "And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love! "I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy. "Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
"Perhaps twenty minutes later he realized she had gone to sleep. He quietly removed his now stiff arm, then turned away. It must have woken her a little After a moment he felt her turn as well and lay a hand, instinctively, like a sleeping wife, across his hips; as if, in some dream, he was the one who escaped."
"You're mine, he growled. He hoped she really understood that too. That she was his in every sense of the word. And vice versa. The female completely owned him. Until the day he died, he would be hers."
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"Isn't he beautiful? His silky hair, his muscles so strong and powerful yet amazingly, he trembles slightly at my touch, and the more I stroke him, the more he leans into my hand,' Keirah said her eyes remaining on the horse. Yes, Keirah, the horse is a fine one,' Wharick said as he slowly walked closer to her. 'What I said was not to you, Gwarda,' she teased, 'I was speaking to the horse."
"Hi there. I am the Gwarda, Breccan, the good-looking, sweet one.' He winked. 'The one thundering, yet, remaining aloof,' he said loudly and continued, 'is Darius. He's a savage, you know,' he said quietly, leaning closer like he was telling her a secret."
"I'm pleased to know you realize she is mine, gypsy. Care to explain why it is that I find you here in the Gwarda arena and touching what belongs to me?"
"Kathel smoothed out his shirt in an exaggerated manner. 'It was the least I could do. I owed her one,' he said referring to when Keirah saved Willow. He looked at Keirah and winked. Yeah, so not the thing to do right now, Keirah thought."
"Thristan looked at her with a bewildered look on his face. 'You think to bind me as the new race will be bound?' he asked solemnly. Sorvus smiled. 'I do not think to bind you, my friend; I think to free you."
"Your fiery spirit excites me, Keirah, like nothing I have ever felt before. Yet I have the overwhelming desire to put you over my knee when you don't do as you are told."
"Kathel did not back down at all. 'Well, Keirah told me she was suddenly unattached, if you know what I mean. And I figured, what the hell, why not have a go at her myself,' Kathel said enthusiastically."
"She knew without a doubt what he had said was true. They were created for each other. Destined for this time of reconciliation. For Keirah, it was a moment, no, it was the moment of a lifetime, and it would forever be engraved on her heart and etched in her soul to be remembered long after forever."
"You don't have a mommy,' Gunnar proclaimed as he walked around Breccan. 'Ok, I want my surrogate,' Breccan said as he sped up to catch the other men. Darius came forward to walk in step beside Wharick and whispered in a discreet tone, 'Please, let me kill him."
"We all have scars, Wharick. Mine happen to be on the the outside,' Kathel answered but knew what he said wasn't entirely true. He bore scars on the inside as well."
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