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I’m not dangerous,” I breathed. He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.” And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Dangerous
Face
Breathed
Faces
Somehow
Reason
Kissing
Brought
Mines
Mine
Toward

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None of the bravado he usually showed was there. I guess there was usually and then there was being held in the grip of a really ripped, really tall, and really pissed off Russian guy.
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Turning away, I stared at the long road winding off ahead of me. I sighed. This trip might take awhile. Then start walking, Rose, I muttered to myself. I set off, off to kill the man I loved.
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No, but ... But I had felt something from another person. Someone who spent time with Alec. The last card in my head flipped over. I know who it is. It's him. That guy. Of course, said Carter dryly. I knew it was that guy. It's always that guy.
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I shook my head and turned away, unable to hear this. “I’m leaving now. I really don’t want to see you again. Nothing personal. Well, yeah, actually it is.
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Weirdly, an image of Adrian’s Love painting came back to me. I thought of the jagged red streak, slashing through the blackness, ripping it apart. Staring at Jill and her inconsolable pain, I suddenly understood his art a little bit better.
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We can take her. Besides, he deserves someone who doesn't shop at Gap Kids. -Rose to Lissa on Mia and Aaron
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Surely I must be a princess in an enchanted sleep. Any day now, this dream-no, nightmare would end, and I’d get my prince and happy ending.
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Under normal circumstances, you inviting me to the bedroom would be the highlight of my day.
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The only thing better than imagining Dimitri carrying me in his arms was imagining him shirtless while carrying me in his arms.
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He'd barely seen me coming, and despite the horribleness of what I'd just done, I kind of wished one of my instructors had been there to grade me on such an awesome performance.
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Smiling, I cut across the quadrangle toward the commons. I felt better about life than I had in a very long time. We could do this, Lissa and me. We could do this together.
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Adrian suddenly made an abrupt turn onto a side street we'd nearly driven past. I jerked upright as he clipped the curb. What are you doing? Think about your tires!
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I need it! I need it! It's a royal heirloom! Adrian? What are you doing here? Looking for you. Come on, we need to go. I'll drive you home. No, I can't. Not until we get it. He stole it!
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Somehow, Sydney had an internal clock that told her when time was up. I think it was part of her inherent ability to keep track of a hundred things at once. Not me. In these moments, my thoughts were usually focused on getting her shirt off and whether I’d get past the bra this time. So far, I hadn’t.
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I said earlier that dead things don't always stay dead. Well, I'm one of them. don't worry - I'm not like the Strigoi. But I did die once (I don't recommend it).
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This is insane, I said blankly. I'm the instrument of an all-powerful primordial deity's wave of chaos and destruction. That's kind of extreme said Dante jovially. It's not like you work for Google or anything.
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Really, Sage? A date?” I sighed. “Yes, Adrian. A date.” “A real date. Not, like, doing homework together,” he added. “I mean like where you go out to a movie or something. And a movie that’s not part of a school assignment. Or about something boring.” “A real date.
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We can't stop living because other people are dead.
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Guilt was its own prison.
Richelle Mead
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No, he said, voice thick and husky. His fingers dug into the chair's arms. You'd better not get too close. I stopped, laughing softly. You don't strike me as the assaulting type, Mortensen. Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything.
Richelle Mead