Quote

Who... who are you?' I asked at last. It was true. I had left a body in the park, but seriously, what was I supposed to do? Drag him back to my hotel and tell my bellhop my friend had had too much to drink?

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
True
Supposed
Body
Asked
Back
Drink
Much
Friend
Park
Lasts
Drag
Last
Parks
Left
Hotel
Tell
Seriously

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Howʹd you get here?ʺ I asked. She winked. ʺYouʹre not the only ones who can steal cars. Or, in my case, get people to ‘willinglyʹ lend them.
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Can't you . . . I don't know. Find a hobby or something? Being charming is my hobby, said Adrian obstinately. I'm the life of the party— even without drinking. I wasn't meant to be alone.
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He's an angel. Isn't he supposed to love everyone, even the damned? Especially when said damned are his drinking buddies.
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If you wanted to remold people, you had to break them down first.
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It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. You can let go of the sword. I can’t. I can’t leave him alone. I have to protect him. You have.
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And so, surpassing my own records for dangerous, reckless behavior, I ripped off Sonya's bracelet. I'm Rose Hathaway.
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Every relationship is different. Everyone loves differently.
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What's going on? he asked, looking from face to face. I was having a good dream. I need you, said Lissa. I hear that from women a lot, said Adrian. Christian made a gagging sound, but the faintest glimmer of a smile crossed Eddie's lips, despite his otherwise tough guardian-stance.
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Victor smiled through the pain and the blood. Of course you have. I used to think Belikov was the savage one, but it's really you, isn't it? You're the animal with no control, no higher reasoning except to fight and kill.
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I'm telling you, I wanted to. But I was trapped. You of all people should know what it's like being caught between groups
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But to be able to kiss someone you love when you're fully and completely in control of yourself and know who you are...it's exquisite. How we love others is affected by how we love ourselves.
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Fortunately for Dimitri, I had his back.
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We're going on a, um, windmill tour later this week. If I'd wanted to shut them all up, I'd definitely succeeded. They all looked stunned. Adrian spoke first. I'm going to assume that means he's flying you to Amsterdam on his private jet. If so, I'd like to come along. But not for the windmills.
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He flipped the dail, and I crossed my arms over my chest as some vaguely European-sounding band sang about how video had killed the radio star. I wished someone would kill this radio.
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