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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.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Along
Wonder
Glances
Running
Finger
Soul
Sheer
Feel
Reached
Feels
Surely
Every
Fingers
Time
Smile

More quotes by R.L. LaFevers

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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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One heart cannot serve two masters.
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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 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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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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When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.
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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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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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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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If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
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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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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.
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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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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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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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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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Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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