Leather And Lark Quotes

Geallaim duit a bheith i mo fhear céile dílis duit, fad a mhairimid le chéile,

Bravery has nothing to do with not feeling fear, and everything to do with facing it.

I’m more like a multiple deleter.

Secure your eyeballs. Repeat. Secure your eyeballs.

My feckin’ catastrophe,” he says as his thumb coasts across my cheek. “You fucking destroyed me. And now I can’t imagine being anything but the man that I am with you.

Sometimes, you need to carve the things you’ve lost right into your skin so you remember what you left behind.

For those of you who came here after the B&B ice cream and just read the L&L triggers and thought, “She’s not really serious about the pizza … right …?” This one’s for you.

A snow globe,” I say slowly, waiting for her to look up, which she doesn’t do. “You made a severed finger into a feckin’ snow globe.” “It was almost Christmas,” she says with a shrug. “It felt … festive.

It took a while to learn that being in love is not enough. Choosing love is what it takes.

Just like nature, the prettiest things are often the most poisonous.

You know what they say about the circus.” “What, that the show must go on?” “No,” she says. “That the show can’t begin until you jump.

The young gentlemen who came calling seemed especially puzzling. They sat in their velvet shirts and their leather boots, nibbling burnt cakes and praising Diamond's mind, and all the while their eyes said other things. Now, their eyes said. Now. Then: Patience, patience. 'You are flowers,' their mouths said, 'You are jewels, you are golden dreams.' Their eyes said: I eat flowers, I burn with dreams, I have a tower without a door in my heart, and I will keep you there...

What a lovely evening. Mind if I join you? I know nothing about chickens, by the way.

My feckin’ catastrophe,” he says as his thumb coasts across my cheek. “You fucking destroyed me. And now I can’t imagine being anything but the man that I am with you.” “Lachlan Kane,” I whisper. “You’d better kiss me and prove it.” One last breath. One look. And then he presses his lips to mine.

It took a while to learn that being in love is not enough. Choosing love is what it takes,” she says as she slides the ring onto my finger. Ethel’s hand folds over mine and she flicks a glance not to Lachlan, but to where Rowan and Sloane stand behind me before she leans a little closer. “You are choosing love, Lark. And I am so proud of you.

There’s power in finding secrets and blowing them up in a beautiful, bright light.

Your wife just broke her family’s heart,” Ethel says. “And she did it to save your life.

I kiss my wife. And I choose love.

I regret not having gone home with Spencer Jones after Marcie’s party when I was twenty-three. Jenny Bright took him home instead and said he ate her ass six ways to Sunday. She wouldn’t shut up about it at brunch at the country club for a solid month—

You’re doing good. So fucking brave.” Lachlan’s voice deepens with a deadly vow when he says, “I’ll kill him before he lays a finger on you, I promise you that. Understand?” I nod, Lachlan’s hand still clamped across my mouth. “That’s my girl.

Sometimes you need to carve the things you've lost right into your skin so you remember what you left behind.

The show can’t start until you jump.

With a faint smile, I set my phone on mute and place it off to the side as I continue my work. Just in case she wakes up.

I’ve tried to cover the physical marks with ink, the ones in my memory never seem to heal. Sometimes old scars still ache, an echo of sharp moments.

You’re brave as hell. But you’re my person, Lark. I can’t do this without you.

The worst suffering is not death. It is in living, day after day, knowing you’ve forever lost that which you most cherished. Most loved. Most desired. It’s being forced to continue existing in a world indifferent to your pain. To realize how powerless you are against the tide of God’s wrath.

I am madly in love with you, Lachlan Kane,” she says, jabbing her finger in my direction as though punctuating each word. “And I am also just madly mad. Don’t you ever give me divorce papers again.” “I promise, duchess.” A burst of hope and relief and joy floods my chest. They are feelings I thought I’d never have, a life I never thought I’d live. Not until I made the choice to let Lark in. “I love you, Lark Kane.

I don’t just want to hear her laugh, I need to earn it. Every time I gain a little ground, I want more. I want to break out of the shade and back into her light. Without even realizing it, I’ve become addicted to it. To her.

I see the beauty of being stripped down to my core. It has nothing to do with the makeup that still clings to my eyes or the foundation that’s been washed away. It’s got everything to do with the person I see in the mirror matching the woman I feel like inside.

I wonder how much love is out there like that, really. I wonder if I'll ever find it. And if I do, I hope I deserve it. Maybe we don't find it. It doesn't just appear. It's not fantasy, not a fairy tale. We make choices, note after note, chord after chord, until we create it.

It was easier to slip into another disguise, to channel the persona I'd practiced so other people wouldn't feel uncomfortable around me. I thought I'd end up lonelier if I wasn't who they wanted me to be. But it doesn't work that way. You still live with your true self on the inside.

I can't give you anything but love, baby That's the only thing I've got plenty of, baby

Spoken like a true trash panda,” Lark says with a fleeting, melancholy smile.

Sometimes, you need to carve the things you've lost right into your skin so you remember what you left behind.

...being in love is not enoug. Choosing love is what it takes.

There’s beauty in terror when it sparks to life in dark souls.

Ruinous love's all I know how to do

I never want to be in love, afraid of the decimating power of its loss. So I buried it. Starved it. Tried my best to keep it out.

He kisses me like I’m exactly what I am. His key to survival.

ROWAN: If you can find insurance for eyeball enucleation, now would be a good time …

Sometimes karma needs a backup bitch,

You fucking destroyed me. And now I can’t imagine being anything but the man that I am with you.

Sloane is probably holed up in her house with a smutty book and her demonic cat.

I will find her. Even if I have to kill every person in this goddamn city to do it.

Enjoy hell, Dr. Campbell. Tell the devil that the Kanes send their regards.

Sometimes old scars still ache, an echo of sharp moments.

So thank you for your totally unnecessary judgments, Budget Batman,

Just like in nature, the prettiest things are often the most poisonous.

You are not what I expected, Ethel.” “I’ve been told that before. But men like you have been underestimating women like me since the dawn of time, so your surprise is not at all refreshing. In fact, it’s a little stale, if you’ll forgive the muffin pun.

And this is one of my favorite things about Lachlan. I can look at him and that one glance tells me everything that words can’t. It shows truths that are locked away, about how hard it is to love. How much it hurts to let go of the armor we wear, to peel it back and show the most damaged layers of ourselves, to bear all our wounds.

Lark never took the Covaci name,” Ethel says, her voice low and quiet. “She always said she would never leave that piece of her dad, Sam, behind. But she did it. For you.” I can feel Lachlan watching me in the rearview. But I can’t bear to meet his gaze. “Your wife just broke her family’s heart,” Ethel says. “And she did it to save your life.

Lark is all those things and more. She’s everything. She’s fierce and unique and surprising and so goddamn gorgeous it sometimes feels like my heart is trapped in a vise when I just look at her. There isn’t a single word I can think of that captures what Lark has become to me. And when I try to open my mouth to say any of them, they dissolve on my tongue.

I am your wife, but I will do as I please, I raged, and the spell rose in my head without effort. Belt that holds my husband’s pants, Loosen now and make him dance. Tiras’s belt flew from his breeches like a sea serpent, slithering through the air only to strike at him with its tail. He stepped back from me, his eyes growing wide as he gripped the gyrating length of leather, holding it at arm’s length with one hand as he held up his pants with the other. But I wasn’t finished. Boots upon my husband’s feet, Kick him so he’ll take a seat. Tiras fell flat on his behind as his boots shimmied and wriggled free, throwing him off balance. His boots then proceeded to kick him on his back and his thighs as he yowled in stunned outrage. “Lark!” Shirt upon my husband’s chest, Wrap yourself around his head. His tunic promptly rose like Tiras was shrugging it off, only it wrapped itself around him, obscuring his angry face. I started to laugh then. I couldn’t help it. He looked so ridiculous sitting on the floor of the library, his socks hanging from his feet, his breeches falling around his hips, his shirt over his head, and his boots and belt attacking him. Tiras lashed out and grabbed my skirts, yanking me down beside him. “Call off the hounds, Lark!” he bellowed, and I laughed even harder, shaking with mirth even as he rolled himself on top of me and valiantly fought the tunic that kept wrapping itself around his face. The tunic was slightly dangerous, the boots weren’t very accurate, and the tail end of the belt had made a welt across my cheek. I decided enough was enough. I performed a sloppy rhyme, and Tiras let out a stream of profanities as the shirt ceased its murderous attempts and the belt and boots fell to the floor, inanimate once again. Tiras’s breathing was harsh and fast, his hair mussed and falling over his eyes as he braced his forearms on either side of my head. His big body pressed me into the floor, making it hard to draw breath. I was well and truly trapped, but I felt like the victor regardless. Are you injured, husband? He was glaring and angry for all of three seconds. Then the lines around his eyes deepened and a smile broke out across his face. He laughed with me, but he kept me pinned beneath him, his face inches from mine. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Immensely. “Tell me this, wife. Is there a spell to quickly remove your dress?” he whispered, still smiling, his breath tickling my mouth. I felt my face grow hot, and I closed my eyes, trying to retreat, even as I immediately considered a spell to render us both naked.

What should I get?” Raylan asks me, not bothering with the heavy leather menu and its array of choices spelled out in fancy scrolled print. “Do you like steak?” I say. “ ‘Course I do. What’s not to like?

saddlebags. “And please tell Kiri she should put her shoes on. Lucas will have a fit if she serves like that.” “Mummy, why do I have to put on shoes? Kiri isn’t wearing any.” George met Gwyneira and her daughter in the corridor outside his room just as he was about to go down to dinner. He had done his best as far as evening wear went. Though slightly wrinkled, his light brown suit was handsomely tailored and much more becoming than the comfortable leather pants and waxed jacket he had acquired in Australia. Gwyneira and the captivating little red-haired girl who was squabbling so loudly were likewise elegantly attired. Though not in the latest fashion. Gwyneira was wearing a turquoise evening gown of such breathtaking refinement that, even in the best London salons, it would have created a stir—especially with a woman as beautiful as Gwyneira modeling it. The little girl wore a pale green shift that was almost entirely concealed by her abundant red-gold locks. When Fleur’s hair hung down loose, it frizzed a bit, like that of a gold tinsel angel. Her delicate green shoes matched the adorable little dress, but the little one obviously preferred to carry them in her hands than wear them on her feet. “They pinch!” she complained. “Fleur, they don’t pinch,” her mother declared. “We just bought them four weeks ago, and they were on the verge of being too big then. Not even you grow that fast. And even if they do pinch, a lady bears a small degree of pain without complaining.” “Like the Indians? Ruben says that in America they take stakes and hurt themselves for fun to see who’s the bravest. His daddy told him. But Ruben thinks that’s dumb, and so do I.” “That’s her opinion on the subject of being ‘ladylike,’” Gwyneira remarked, looking to George for help. “Come, Fleurette. This is a gentleman. He’s from England, like Ruben’s mummy and me. If you behave properly, maybe he’ll greet you by kissing your hand and call you ‘my lady.’ But only if you wear shoes.” “Mr. McKenzie always calls me ‘my lady’ even if I walk around barefoot.” “He must not come from England, then,” George said, playing along. “And he certainly hasn’t been introduced to the queen.” This honor had been conferred on the Greenwoods the year before, and George’s mother would probably chatter on about it for the rest of her

Out in the world, it's like she needs to be everything to everyone, with nothing left for herself at the end of the day.

I wonder how much love is out there like that, really. I wonder if I’ll ever find it. And if I do, I hope I deserve it. And now I think, Maybe we don’t find it. It doesn’t just appear. It’s not fantasy, not a fairy tale. We make choices, note after note, chord after chord, until we create it.

Do you know why you’re there with fireworks strapped to your dick and I’m over here with a fuse?

It took a while to learn that being in love is not enough. Choosing love is what it takes,

I cannot bear to hear about the way some other guy fucked my wife. Or the way she might have fucked him. Please. Not right now.

You can’t second-guess the decisions you made to survive.

Sometimes, we all need to sacrifice a little happiness to protect the ones we love and keep our promises to look after one another.

I found more than just a bad boy. I found a fucking predator. One who had slipped right under my defenses. And years ago, I promised myself one thing: Never again.

Predators like Andrew abound on this beautiful earth like a fucking locust invasion. Sometimes it seems like no place is free of infestation, even fortresses that are meant to be sacred, like Ashborne. Beautiful and grand. Secluded. Safe. Just like in nature, the prettiest things are often the most poisonous.

You’re a believer?” The luster dulls in Lark’s smile when she drops her gaze to the saddle. Her fingers coast across the embossed roses, the faded design lost to time. “My dad was. We all were, I guess. But I’m not anymore.

So my boss gets the two contracts, you get the murderer, and I get my freedom. Everybody wins. Does that sum it up?” Fine lines crinkle at the corners of her eyes as Lark’s face scrunches in a cringe. “Almost.” “What do you mean, almost?” “There’s a slight catch.” “Can’t wait to hear this.” “We need to get married.” “Bollocks.” I snort a laugh, but nothing in Lark’s expression changes. I laugh again and it’s a derisive, mirthless sound, but she doesn’t flinch. “Oh my feckin’ Christ, you’re bloody serious.” “Sadly.

Any clever reply I’m about to attempt is lost the moment Lark’s lips press to mine. My brain is a black void behind my shuttered eyelids. Lark’s citrus scent floods my nostrils. She runs the tip of her tongue across the seam of my lips and I taste the echo of the orange soda she was drinking. The softest moan vibrates from her mouth to mine. And I come undone. My tongue plunders her mouth. Lark’s fist tightens in my shirt. The glass clutched in my hand is in danger of being crushed to dust or thrown over the balcony. I’m desperate to mold her flesh in my palms, but I settle for laying one hand to the side of her neck instead. The second my palm touches her skin, she whimpers with need.

Geallaim duit a bheith i mo fhear céile dílis duit, fad a mhairimid le chéile. I didn’t know what it meant—I still don’t. But I felt it. That this man would be there with me in my darkest times. And if I let him, he’ll be there in the light too. The show can’t start until you jump.

At least he looks damn good. He’s kind of like a combination of Constantine-era Keanu with Mad Max–era Tom Hardy. Hot and kind of sad.

I love you, Lachlan. Let me do the choosing

I want to break out of the shade and back into her light. Without even realizing it, I’ve become addicted to it. To her.

I slip into the cushy leather seat, a woody citrus scent filling my nostrils. I freeze with my hands on the wheel, realizing that I’ve climbed into Enzo Gallo’s car. I remember that cologne. It brings back vividly the vision of a distinguished older man in a fine wool suit, with shocking streaks of white in his dark hair.

Dante has on a black t-shirt and jeans, and Nero’s wearing a leather jacket. My brothers are refusing to dress up on principle. A silent protest.

saccharine

What the fuck is going on?” Sloane asks, worry etched in her features, the green hues of her hazel eyes more vibrant against the bloodshot evidence of the worried tears she must have shed during her drive here. “I thought you hated Lachlan. You can’t be serious about marrying him.” “What gave you the impression I hate him?” “You saying, ‘Lachlan is a dickhead, I really hate that guy,’ might be one reason.” I let out an unsteady laugh as I try not to fidget with the bouquet clutched in my iron grip. “Well, he can kind of be a dickhead, sure, but hate might be a bit strong.” Sloane turns toward me, the car still idling in park. “Tell me what the fuck is going on, Lark. You’re my best friend. You’re the most impetuous person I know, but this? A random-as-fuck wedding to Lachlan Kane when you’ve spoken to each other what, like, five times? And all those times have been some kind of miserable? There has to be a reason for this sudden one-eighty.” She shakes her head as fresh tears well at her lash line. Her voice is barely more than a strained squeak when she says, “The math. It ain’t mathin’.

Really? You hate him? Because you look like you want to climb him like a tree.

I’m in pain and I look like I’m hurting. I’m in love and I look like I’m living. I like the woman looking back at me.

will find her. Even if I have to kill every person in this goddamn city to do it.

But my word is worth my life. I made a vow to Lark. I will protect my wife.

Exactly. So thank you for your totally unnecessary judgments, Budget Batman,

Works for me, Blunder Barbie,

It was easier to slip into another disguise, to channel the persona I’d practiced so that other people wouldn’t feel uncomfortable around me. I thought I’d end up lonelier if I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. But it doesn’t really work that way. You still live with your true self on the inside.

It's not like glitter confetti is raining from the ceiling, or pyrotechnics start shooting from the stage. I'm about to dismantle the battery casing when...

She won’t care about trying so hard if it’s just the two of us. Out in the world, it’s like she needs to be everything to everyone, with nothing left for herself at the end of the day.

I wonder how much love is out there like that, really. I wonder if I’ll ever find it. And if I do, I hope I deserve it.

Maybe we don’t find it. It doesn’t just appear. It’s not fantasy, not a fairy tale. We make choices, note after note, chord after chord, until we create it.

Talk to you? Since when have you made it fun to do that? You cannot wait to judge the shit out of me again. You really are an asshat, Lachlan Kane.