Kingdom Of Flesh And Fire Quotes

Your heart, Poppy? It is a gift I do not deserve.” He placed his hands on his knees as he lifted his gaze to mine. “But it is one I will protect until my dying breath.

I don’t want to pretend,” I whispered. “I’m Poppy and you’re Casteel, and this is real.

He was the first thing I’d ever truly chosen for myself.

Let’s make a deal that we don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems today.

You can’t spell dysfunctional without fun, now can you?

Always,” he whispered in the breath we shared. “Your heart was always safe with me. It always will be. There is nothing I will protect more fiercely or with more devotion, Poppy. Trust in that—in what you feel from me.

I fell for you when you were Hawke, and I kept falling for you when you became Casteel.

Make me feel incompetent and kill more than me, Princess.

But even so, sometimes, the heartbreak that comes with loving someone is worth it, even if loving that person means eventually saying goodbye to them.

He was both the villain and the hero, the monster and the monster-slayer.

You’re beautiful when you’re quiet and somber, but when you laugh? You rival the sunrise over the Skotos Mountains.

Just so you know, Penellaphe doesn’t need protection. She is more than capable of handling things herself. But that is my future you are walking away with. Guard her well. Your life depends on it.

You’re an absolutely stunning, murderous little creature,” he murmured.

He may hate being called the Dark One, but he has earned that name.” Kieran’s pale eyes met mine as a shiver curled its way down my spine. “But he’s the one thing in all the kingdoms that you, and only you, never have to fear.

The world, no matter how big, is often smaller than we realize.

Dear gods, you have her on her own horse? Soon, she’ll be running one of us over instead of stabbing us.

He had my whole heart, and he had from the moment he allowed me to protect myself, from the moment he stood beside me instead of in front of me.

I need to feel your lips on mine." He planted his hands on the carriage wall, caging me in. "I need to feel your breath in my lungs. I need to feel your life inside me. I just need you. It's an ache. This need. Can I have you? All of you?

I am Hawke,” he said after a moment. “And I am Casteel. I’m not two separate people, no matter how badly you want to believe that.

A cell is a cell, no matter how comfortable it is.

You don’t deserve everything that I’ve laid at your feet, and you sure as hell don’t deserve the fact that I’m still trying to hold onto you. That when it comes time for you to leave, I’m still going to want you. Even when you inevitably do leave, I’ll still want you.

I lost myself to the freedom of being able to read any book I wanted.

Feelings were not stagnant. Neither were opinions or beliefs, and if we stopped believing people were capable of change, then the world might as well be left to burn.

There is no side of you that is not as beautiful as the other half. Not a single inch isn’t stunning.” His lashes lifted, and the intensity in his stare held me captive. “That was true the first time I said it to you, and it is still the truth today and tomorrow.

Told him that if a woman fights with that kind of passion and makes you work that hard to earn even a smile, then that’s the kind of woman you want by your side in and out of the bedchamber.

His fingers slipped under it as his hand curved on my shoulder. "You lie so sweetly". I ignored that. "Casteel---" "But not as sweet as you say my name". I let out a little growl. "You are..." "Marvelous? Charming? Undeniable?" "Increasingly annoying

I stared up at him, hands and arms trembling. “I don’t know what you want from me.” “Everything,” he bit out between clenched teeth. “I want everything.

When it comes to bacon, the answer is always yes.

Oh, man,” Delano murmured under his breath as the rest of the room went dead silent. “Someone is getting stabbed again.

That's ... that's really sad." "Some say all great love stories are.

The bed shifted as Casteel sat up. Gently, he pried my fingers from the dagger. “I’m just putting this down. It’s still within reach in case you want to stab me.

You seem to know a lot about that book.” “I love that fucking book,” he said, and my jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it.

He smiled up at me, his eyes twin golden flames. “I do so prefer hand-to-hand combat with you,” he said, catching my other wrist when I swung my fist down. “I like how close it brings us, Princess.” I shrieked my frustration – my irritation – at him. At myself. “There is something so wrong with you!” “Probably, but you know what?” He lifted his head off the ground. “That’s the part you like the most.

I heard one of them talk about how they wanted to make a cloak out of my fur,” Delano said from where he rode to our right. His brows were furrowed. “My fur should be reserved for something far more luxurious than a cloak. I bit him extra hard for that.

But I was once told that the best relationships are the ones where passions run high.

Why did you have to tell me that Hawke was your middle name?” The fire crackled, spitting sparks, and I closed my eyes. Seconds, maybe minutes later, Casteel said, “Because you needed to know that not everything was a lie.

Let’s make a deal that we don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems today.” Tomorrow always came soon enough, but I nodded. Because in the same breath, tomorrow wasn’t today’s problem.

Beauty, my sweet child, is often broken and barbed, and always unexpected.

I reacted without thought, slamming my elbow into his stomach. Casteel grunted out a curse. “Please don’t fight atop the horse,” Delano called out from somewhere behind us. “None of us wish to watch Setti trample either of you.” “Speak for yourself,” came Kieran’s droll voice. Casteel straightened behind me. “Don’t worry. Neither of us will fall. It was just a love tap.” “That did not look like a love tap,” Naill commented. “That’s because it was a very passionate one,” Casteel replied. “You’re about to get a love tap to your face,” I muttered under my breath. Casteel curled his arm more firmly around my waist as he laughed.

scholars have said that the ego is the downfall of many, many powerful people.

Apparently, she already stabbed him once,” Jasper informed the Guardian. “In the heart.” Nova looked at me. “And she cut me earlier tonight. Threw a knife right at my face another time,” Casteel ticked off his fingers. “Then this one time, in the woods, she—” “No one wants to hear about how many times I’ve made you bleed,” I snapped. “I do,” Jasper remarked. Emil raised his hand. “So do I.

The next time I saw Casteel, I was going to shove the stupid knife so far into his chest, he would have to dig it out.

There are a few things more peaceful than being out in the snow.

But he’s the one thing in all the kingdoms that you, and only you, never have to fear.

This isn’t appropriate. I’m the Maiden. Or was. Whatever. I’m the definition of appropriate.” He stared at me. “Besides the fact that you are not the definition of appropriate, everyone in this keep knows that we’ve already shared a bed, Poppy.” “Well, that’s just…” My face burned. “That’s just great.

But we will have that conversation later,” he promised, thrusting the sword into my hand. “Make me feel incompetent and kill more than me, Princess.

He didn’t seem to hear me as his eyes brightened. “You smell like…” “If you say I smell like Casteel again, I will punch you in the face,” I promised. “Hard.

Thank you." "For what?" The tough of his fingertips was light, but a shiver still rolled through me. "For choosing me.

Change can be good just as much as it can be bad.

And if we stopped believing people were capable of change, then the world might as well be left to burn.

Tomorrow always came soon enough, but I nodded. Because in the same breath, tomorrow wasn’t today’s problem. 

...but people who are in love enough to marry - the ones that people know are together before they even realize it - never consist of just one person, one personality, or one will. They fight. They argue. They disagree. They make up. They talk. They agree. The one thing they never are is perfect.

Your heart, Poppy? It is a gift I do not deserve.” He placed his hands on his knees as he lifted his gaze to mine. “But it is one I will protect until my dying breath.

I'm hoping that hawk returns, and instead of snatching up poor helpless animals and children, it grabs you

How you’ve spoken to me doesn’t bother me. I’m not insecure enough to care about the opinions of little men.

What matters is that I choose her,” Casteel spoke, and my stupid, stupid heart skipped a beat, even though I did not choose him. “And that is all that matters.

I want a ring,” I announced. “I want an obscenely big one like I’ve seen some of the wives of wealthy merchants have. Their diamonds are so large they look like they should weigh down their hands.” He angled his body toward me. “I will find you a diamond so big it will enter the room before you do.

Curiosity is a sign of intelligence.

Grinning, Kieran backed up. “When has she ever needed a reason to be violent?” “Good point.” Casteel glanced down at me, one side of his lips quirking. The damn dimple winked into existence. “I guess I should be grateful that she didn’t stab you.” “There’s always later,” I muttered.

Soy tan increíblemente indigno de ti.

The moment the doors swung open, the musty scent that hit me sparked joy in my heart. Books. Rows and rows of books.

And kissing Casteel was like daring to kiss the sun.

As far as me being a liability? I’m just as good with a sword as I am with a bow, and I’m damn good with a bow. Probably better than most here. I am an asset,” I said. “And as far as being a distraction to Casteel, that’s his weakness. Not mine.

What a pretty little flower. What a pretty poppy. Pick it and watch it bleed. Not so pretty any longer… Poppy.

Thought Atlantians didn’t get cold.” “Don’t point out my inconsistencies.

I was raised in a cage so pretty that it took a very long time for me to see it for what it was.

And bow before the…before the last descendent of the most ancient ones, she who carries the blood of the King of the Gods within her. Bow before your new Queen.

My heart, which gave a happy little flop, was obviously stupid.

You were born of flesh with the fire of the gods in your blood. You are a Bringer of Life and a Bringer of Death,” Nyktos interrupted. “You are the Queen of Flesh and Fire, due more than one Crown, one kingdom. What you seek, you already have. You always had the power in you.

Nicknames are often reserved for friends. I don’t believe you consider us friends.

Beautiful. I want you to know that. You’re beautiful. Every inch of you

You can't spell dysfunctional without fun, now can you?

I don’t want to pretend,” I whispered. “I’m Poppy and you’re Casteel, and this is real.

Thank you." "For what?" The touch of his fingertips was light, but a shiver still rolled through me. "For choosing me.

Every myth is rooted in some fact.

Wolven body temperatures run higher than normal. I’m just a little chilled,” Kieran commented. “As I’m sure you noticed.” Casteel smirked. “I doubt she knows what you’re referencing.

There are a lot of different people from various places that I haven’t met and know nothing about. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to make assumptions.

The heartbreak that comes with loving someone is worth it, even if loving that person means eventually saying goodbye to them

If you’re looking for a fight…” came a voice that sent a shiver down my spine and then over my skin. My head jerked in the direction of the sound. “You’ll fight me, Princess.

With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment, I am yours.

I thought about my future. Who I used to be, who I was becoming, and who I wanted to be. And it was strange how revelations felt like they happened all of a sudden, but in reality, it took many small, almost indiscernible moments over the course of weeks, months, and years.

Old Nan nodded. ‘In that darkness, the Others came for the first time,’ she said as her needles went click, click, click. ‘They were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every creature with hot blood in its veins. They swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms, felled heroes and armies by the score, riding their pale dead horses and leading hosts of the slain. All the swords of men could not stay their advance, and even maidens and suckling babes found no pity in them. They hunted the maids through frozen forests, and fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children.’ (p240)

Kieran had finally, after about ten years, finished cutting up his food. “May I have that? If you’re done, that is? I’m not sure, but the last piece is a little thicker than the rest of the pieces.” Slowly, he looked over at me. “Would you like me to cut your food for you?” “Would you like me to knock you off this bench?

The most beautiful things in all the kingdom often have jagged and uneven lines, scars which intensify the beauty in intricate ways our eyes nor our minds can detect or even begin to understand," the Queen had said as she turned the diamond in her hand, light catching on its irregular dips and peaks. "Without them, they would just be common and ordinary, like all the other smoothly cut diamonds you can find anywhere you look. Beauty, my sweet child, is often broken and barbed, and always unexpected.

I did as he requested without complaint. It was rare. I hoped he recognized that.

We pretend that there’s no yesterday. No tomorrow. It’s just us, right now, and I can be Hawke,

I don’t know, but bad memories always seem to have a way of being remembered over the good.

A crucial part of their all-encompassing control is creating a rift between mortals who have and mortals who have not.

Forcing a warrior to don a veil of submission was never going to last.

But as soon as they get to know her, none of that will matter. They will come to love her as fiercely as I do.

But fearing what you’re capable of doesn’t mean I fear you.

So, I know all about how the past doesn’t remain where it should. How it likes to pay visits when you’re at your weakest. There is never a need to apologize, nor should you ever feel shame.

Tengo mucha sangre en mis manos, Poppy. A veces, tanta que no creo que alguna vez estén limpias. Tanto que no sé si alguna vez quiero que lo estén".

But war was never one-sided. Casualties always piled up on both sides, and the losses were always the greatest among the most innocent.

I nodded as Casteel cursed when the arrow he’d been pulling on most likely got stuck on something important. Like an organ.

I know you are the same,” I said. “You are the one who lied to me from the beginning, and you’re the one who is holding me captive now. It doesn’t matter what name you used while doing it.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “Yet you haven’t called me Hawke since you learned who I was.” The frustration quickly flamed into anger. “And why does that matter, Hawke?” A smile crept across his lips then, one that showed the barest hint of fangs. “Because I miss hearing you say it.” I stared at him for what felt like a small eternity. “You’re ridiculous, Casteel.

The ones that hang onto the limbs,” I explained. “They’re fluffy and cute, but are supposedly vicious.” “Dear gods, do I even want to know why you’re thinking of the tree bears?” “Tree bear?” My brow puckered. “That’s the name?” “Poppy,” he sighed. I rolled my eyes. “You remind me of a tree bear.” “I would tell you that I’m offended, but that requires speaking, which means neither of us would be sleeping.” “Whatever,” I muttered.

watched him let the blanket fall to his waist and then fold his hands under his head. Once he appeared comfortable, he said, “But, just so you know, if you want my lips on any piece of you, I’m more than willing to appease you.” My mouth dropped open. “And my willingness to comply extends to my hands, my fingers, and my cock—” “Oh, my gods,” I cut him off. “You don’t have to worry about that. I will never request your…your services.” “Services?” He tipped his head toward me. “That sounds so dirty.” I ignored that comment. “You and I are never going to do anything like what we did before.” “Never?” “Never.” “Would you say it would be…impossible?” “Yes. It’s definitely impossible.” Hawke smiled then, and it was Hawke’s smile. Dimples appeared in both cheeks, and I hated the catch I felt in my chest upon seeing them. Loathed that it made me see him as Hawke. “But didn’t you just say nothing was impossible?” he all but purred. I stared down at him, at an absolute loss for words. “I want to stab you in the heart right now.” “I’m sure you do,” he replied, closing his eyes.

But my parents understood that the world that they made within the walls of our house was what constituted home. So I grew up in spaces framed by art and color, filled with candlelight, marked by beauty. I grew up within a rhythm of time made sacred by family devotions in the morning and long conversations in the evening. I grew up with the sense of our daily life as a feast and delight; a soup-and-bread dinner by the fire, Celtic music lilting in the shadows, and the laughter of my siblings gave me a sense of the blessedness of love, of God's life made tangible in the food and touch and air of our home. It was a fight for my parents, I know. Every day was a battle to bring order to mess, peace to stressful situations, beauty to the chaos wrought by four young children. But that's the reality of incarnation as it invades a fallen world....What my parents-bless them-knew...is that to make a home right in the midst of the fallen world is to craft out a space of human flesh and existence in which eternity rises up in time, in which the kingdom comes, in which we may taste and see the goodness of God.

The god of the prosperity gospelists is a pathetic doormat, a genie. The god of the cutesy coffee mugs and Joel Osteen tweets is a milquetoast doofus like the guys in the Austen novels you hope the girls don’t end up with, holding their hats limply in hand and minding their manners to follow your lead like a butler—or the doormat he stands on. The god of the American Dream is Santa Claus. The god of the open theists is not sovereignly omniscient, declaring the end from the beginning, but just a really good guesser playing the odds. The god of our therapeutic culture is ourselves, we, the “forgivers” of ourselves, navel-haloed morons with “baggage” but not sin. None of these pathetic gods could provoke fear and trembling. But the God of the Scriptures is a consuming fire (Deut. 4:24). “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Heb. 10:31). He stirs up the oceans with the tip of his finger, and they sizzle rolling clouds of steam into the sky. He shoots lightning from his fists. This is the God who leads his children by a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire. This is the God who makes war, sends plagues, and sits enthroned in majesty and glory in his heavens, doing what he pleases. This is the God who, in the flesh, turned tables over in the temple as if he owned the place. This Lord God Jesus Christ was pushed to the edge of the cliff and declared, “This is not happening today,” and walked right back through the crowd like a boss. This Lord says, “No one takes my life; I give it willingly,” as if to say, “You couldn’t kill me unless I let you.” This Lord calms the storms, casts out demons, binds and looses, and has the authority to grant us the ability to do the same. The Devil is this God’s lapdog. And it is this God who has summoned us, apprehended us, saved us. It is this God who has come humbly, meekly, lowly, pouring out his blood in infinite conquest to set the captives free, cancel the record of debt against us, conquer sin and Satan, and swallow up death forever. Let us, then, advance the gospel of the kingdom out into the perimeter of our hearts and lives with affectionate meekness and humble submission. Let us repent of our nonchalance. Let us embrace the wonder of Christ.