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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.
Richelle Mead
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Richelle Mead
Age: 47
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Faces
Punched
Pain
Stepped
Enough
Asset
Hard
Assets
Forward
Greatest
Wincing
Heard
Moaned
Face
Dorian
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Stick. I said in Russian. I had no clue what the word for stake was. I pointed at the silver ring I wore and made a slashing motion. Stick. where? He stared at me in utter confusion and then asked in perfect English, why are you talking like that?
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You will lose what you value most... It hadn't been me that Rhonda was talking about. It hadn't even been Dimitri's life. What you value most. It had been his soul.
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All we can go on is what we think, how we see the world. If you can't trust your own mind what can you trust?
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I clung to that spark of hope, nurturing it into a small flame that chased some of the shadows in my heart away.
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That was Sydney Sage, said Lissa. I thought they were all in West Virginia. Why isn't she with Rose? That, said Abe darkly, is an excellent question. Because they were apparently kidnapping Jill Mastrano in Detroit, said Christian. Which is weird. But not the craziest thing I can think of Rose doing.
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We studied our angels for a few moments more, looking at where we had lain side by side in that sweet, quiet moment. I wished what I’d said was true, that we had truly left our mark on the mountain. But I knew that after the next snowfall, our angels would disappear into the whiteness and be nothing more than a memory.
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As much as I hated to admit it, I kind of looked forward to seeing him. It made no sense, but something about his infuriating nature made me forget about my other worries. Weirdly, I felt like I could relax around him.
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Is Hopper celebrating with you?” “Hopper? Why would—” My mouth snapped shut for a few moments. “Oh. I, uh, kind of forgot about him.
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But what I found most interesting was that Aaron had apparently found a way to pass the time without her. Beside him, holding his hand, was a Moroi girl who looked about eleven but had to be older, unless he'd become a pedophile during our absence.
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I think Adrian really likes you. Like, in a wanting-to-be-serious way. Nope. He likes me in a wanting-to-get-the-clothes-off-the-cute-dhampir way.
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I was so tired of being told reasonable, practical things whenever something went wrong with my life.
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Are we going to New Orleans? No, she said, backing out of the spot. We're going to West Virginia. I assume by 'West Virginia,' you actually mean 'Hawaii,' I said. Or some place equally exciting.
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I knew you were a badass, continued Adrian. But I didn't realize just how much until I saw you dropping guardians out there. Does that mean you're going to be nicer to me? I teased. I'm already nice to you, he said loftily. Do you know how badly I want a cigarette right now? But no. I manfully suffer through nicotine withdrawal—all
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