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Love is the greatest form of loyalty, one that places happiness of the beloved over the lover.

Nalini Singh

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Nalini Singh
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: February 17
Author
Journalist
Writer
Happiness
Form
Love
Lover
Loyalty
Beloved
Lovers
Places
Greatest

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There's not much left inside me, Max Sometimes, all she heard were echoes.
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Dmitri clearly gives good . . . blood.
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He understands evil better than any other person I’ve ever known. We disagree in how to eliminate it, but we do not disagree that it exists.
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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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I tell you I'm dangerous and you want to put knives near me? - Vaughn to Faith
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A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.
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When was the last time you lost an argument? He pretended to think about it. Then, leaning down, he whispered in her ear, A few hours ago when you refused to stop the car and crawl into the backseat with me.
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His gentleness twined another tendril around her heart, until she was so entangled in him, she knew she’d never break free. For the first time in her life, her wolf had chosen. And it had chosen this lone wolf. “You have me,” she whispered. All of me.
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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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We die, she said, we die together. That's the deal.
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Your weapons-master appears to have an actual, beating heart, she said to Raphael. Who knew? Jessamy. I concede that point. Elena referring to Galen
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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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She was his and he was hers. They had under-the-skin privileges.
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He hugged her again, before she could put some distance between them. Then the most sneaky wolf in the den lowered his voice and whispered, “But you’ve got an advantage, sweetheart. You’re already in his head. And you know how to mess with it.
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You sure got a quick trigger, Sienna, he teased.
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After they were both done, the pile of knives and guns on the coffee table looked like they’d cleaned out an armory. “I think we have a problem, Dmitri.
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You can run,” Dorian said in a neutral tone that did nothing to lessen the intensity of his expression, “but sooner or later, you run out of places to run to.
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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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Bluebell, you couldn’t take me if I was blindfolded and had both hands tied behind my back.” “Bluebell?” Illium narrowed his eyes. “That’s it, Barbarian.
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The longer you live, the more mistakes you make. And the more sorrows you carry.
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