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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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No, Nathan, no. She wrapped his face in her hands. I just need you--all of you--so much that I'm going crazy. I need your laugh. I need your company. I need you to sleep beside me and I need you to wake when I wake. I need you with everything in me.
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Push me and I will. I’ll get punished, but you’ll still be dead.
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You, she managed to say hoarsely, are a very bad kitty cat.
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A life is not a waste of time
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To fight is to face death once more, perhaps the total annihilation of their kind. But to run... is that not also a kind of annihilation?
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Voles-tu, mon petit papillon.” Illium laughed at Galen’s instruction to “fly, little butterfly
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Human women have been slapping men for being bastards for centuries. You were doing what comes naturally.
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You have the power to tear me to pieces, to wound me so deep and true that I'll never recover. What Rissa's death did to the boy I was? You have the ability to do a thousand times worse to the man I've become.
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Taking a sip of the hot chocolate he'd made her, she met his gaze, those eerie eyes of endless black impenetrable, unreadable. Max? Yes? Will you remember me? His heart broke into a thousand pieces. Always.
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No one goes through life with a whole heart.
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Heart of my heart, that’s who you are, Adria Morgan. Chosen and forever.” Picking her hand off his cheek, he pressed a lingering kiss to the palm before placing it over the strong, steady rhythm of that very organ. “Wolf and man, you own every part of me.
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Holding her gaze, he closed the final distance between them and went down to his knees, that beautiful bruised face looking up at her.
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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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I think Illium can take care of himself.” “Not if he keeps flirting with you.” A fine, almost elegant tendril of heat, champagne and sunshine, decadence in the light. “Raphael’s not the sharing kind.
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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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Option 1: Attempt to back out. Probable result: Death after painful torture. Option 2: Do the job and hope. Probable result: Death but probably no torture (good)
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