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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Part
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Whenever
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Death

More quotes by R.L. LaFevers

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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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... true faith never comes without anguish.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.
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However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.
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I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.
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You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
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He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. Who are you? I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. Vengeance, I say softly.
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People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
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The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.
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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.
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I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.
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In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.
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We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
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Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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