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Sophia got up, taking one last look at the extraordinary daughter Councilor Nikita Duncan had borne.

Nalini Singh

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Nalini Singh
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: February 17
Author
Journalist
Writer
Taking
Lasts
Last
Look
Sophia
Looks
Duncan
Borne
Extraordinary
Daughter

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There's not much left inside me, Max Sometimes, all she heard were echoes.
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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.
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Under her palm, his heart beat strong and sure. It was such a human sound, so honest, so real.
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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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Where did you learn your charm—the gulag?
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She dumped me for the quarterback after she'd played my body like a banjo. So Sad. I bet I'm serious. I was heartbroken. For how long? A whole week. An eternity in the life of a teenage boy.
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Only ignorance excuses stupidity
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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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Fathers and mothers,” she found herself saying, “leave their mark, no matter if we’ve known them a lifetime or only a day.
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Oh my God! I'm crushing an angel. Let me up!
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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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Sentinel meeting tonight,” Ria told her. “At Lucas's place.” “Time?” ... “Seven. Sascha's doing dinner.” “God save us all.” Sascha had decided she liked cooking. Unfortunately, cooking didn't like her back.
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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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Take care of my heart won't you, Sophie? It's a little odd having it outside my body-but I'm planning to steal yours to make up for it.
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Some wounds should be healed, no matter how much time has passed or how much time is left.
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Voles-tu, mon petit papillon.” Illium laughed at Galen’s instruction to “fly, little butterfly
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How’s Her Royal Bitchiness?” “Alive.” “Pity.
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Why is it”—she shivered as he kissed the top of her spine, went lower—“that I always end up naked while you remain dressed?” A husky masculine chuckle, his lips moving over her shoulder, his hands on her hips. “Because I'm a smart man.
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Two broken pieces making a whole.
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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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