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He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Past
Wells
Come
Well
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Smiles
Midnight
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More quotes by R.L. LaFevers

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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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He barks out a laugh. My little rebel.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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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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The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
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People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
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There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
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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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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.
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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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Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.
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It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
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And so it is with us we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.
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For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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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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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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