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I felt a strange fluttering sensation in my chest. Butterflies, cardiac arrest . . . it was hard to say what exactly.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Hard
Sensation
Chest
Chests
Butterfly
Sensations
Cardiac
Exactly
Fluttering
Strange
Arrest
Felt
Butterflies

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...but Dimitri...well, my former lover and instructor was in a category all his own. His fighting skills were beyond anyone else's, and he was using them all in defense of me. Stay back, he ordered me. They aren't laying a hand on you.
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Are you sleepwalking?' A voice asked behind me. I was testing dorm security, I said. It sucks.
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Guilt was its own prison.
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And you work for that demon, right? The one who looks like Matthew Broderick?” “John Cusack,” I corrected. “He looks like John Cusack.” “Whatever.
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He stepped forward and punched Dorian in the face, hard enough that I heard a thwack. Ow, moaned Dorian, wincing from the pain. My greatest asset.
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She has very strong ideas about family - ideas that probably sound kind of sexist to you. She believes all dhampirs should train and put in time as guardians, but that the women should eventually return home to raise their children together. But not the men? No, he said wryly. She thinks men still need to stay out there and kill Strigoi.
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You can't fool me, comrade. You want to put on a cowboy hat and keep lawless bank robbers in line.'' No time. I have enough trouble keeping you in line.
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Eddie became about one percent less tense.
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There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with someone,” I said diplomatically. Unless that person turns your world upside down and makes you lose all self-control.
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I stared. Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?
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Rose never would have done anything like that,' he countered. He paused to reconsider, and I could've sworn there was a hint of a smile there. 'Well at least not in such a public setting.'- Dimitri Belikov
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Don't worry, I won't bite. At least not in the way you're afraid of.
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Okay. Now you have to move your arms and legs.” “I know how to make a snow angel.” “Then do it! Otherwise, you’re more like a chalk outline at a police crime scene.
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It's okay, I said soothingly. You're just getting your stride back. Once you're up to full power, I'll go crack a rib or something so we can test it. She groaned. The horrible part is that I don't think you're joking.
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Would he have said he loved me? I would ask myself that for the rest of my life.
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What were you thinking? I demanded once we were moving to the music. I was trying to ignore his hands. Do you know how much trouble you may have gotten me in? Adrian grinned. Nah. They all feel bad for you. You'll achieve martyrdom after dancing with a mean, wicked vampire. Job security with the Alchemists.
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Too bad you got so bogged down in books. You've got the spirit of a warrior.
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Later, I would ask Shaya to help me compose a formal response to Katrice's letter, something a long the lines of I am the Thorn Queen. F*** Off.
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Call me crazy for asking this, but, um, are Lissa and I going with you? No No? No.
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Yeah? Can you draw a skeleton riding a motorcycle with flames coming out of it? And I want a pirate hat on the skeleton. And a parrot on his shoulder. A skeleton parrot. Or maybe a ninja skeleton parrot? No, that would be overkill. But it'd be cool if the biker skeleton could be shooting some ninja throwing stars. That are on fire.
Richelle Mead