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Do you have no sense of self-preservation?

Nalini Singh

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Nalini Singh
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: February 17
Author
Journalist
Writer
Preservation
Sense
Self

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The longer you live, the more mistakes you make. And the more sorrows you carry.
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... because he was going to marry her. “It is customary to ask,” she now said as she turned to watch him button up a black shirt over that chest she’d licked and sucked and kissed not long ago. “Why?” He shrugged. “I’m not giving you a choice.
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No,” he responded, reaching out to trace the shell of her ear. “They grew back even more beautiful. Blue edged with silver.” Elena laughed at the scowl in his voice.
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One thing I've always wondered—why did you enter that bikini contest when you were a teenager?” Her face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “How far back did you trace me?” “Far enough.” A pause. “You didn't answer my question.” “And you didn't turn into a puff of smoke and disappear. The world is full of disappointments.
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The fear is like metal on my tongue—I’ve known him but a fragment of time, and yet I’m certain if I accept his suit, it will destroy a part of me when he leaves.” Keir reached forward to tuck her hair behind her ear. “We’re all a little broken.” Quiet. Potent. “No one goes through life with a whole heart.
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Part of you is the wind,” he murmured. “Oui, that is true. But even the wind sometimes rests.” Shaking her head, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, soaking in the intrinsically male heat of his skin. “Then consider me an endless storm.
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Life changes us. To wish otherwise is pointless.
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You ever taunt me with Tasha again, she said in a harsh whisper when they broke the kiss to gasp for air, and I will geld you. Raphael winced. That would take at least a day to repair. Are you sure you want to lose my....attributes for that long?
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You do realize this makes your wings even more unique. Are you saying you shot me as a cosmetic procedure?
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Tell me something, Raphael? He was already turning, heading to the door. What is it you'd like to know, Guild Hunter? She hid her smile at his slip. What do I call you? Husband? Mate? Boyfriend? Stopping with his hand on the doorknob, he shot her an inscrutable look. You can call me 'Master'.
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But sometimes, that depth of need—to save, to protect—can become a blinding fervor, one that destroys the very thing it thinks to safeguard.
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Come make me sticky. Dimitri to Honor
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Illium grinned, unrepentant. “Want to try again? I’ll move extra slow — you are both so much older, after all.” The last words were a conspiratorial whisper. Galen glanced at Raphael. “How has he survived this long?” “No one can catch him.
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You sure got a quick trigger, Sienna, he teased.
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