Leigh Rivers Quotes

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

Please choose me. Nobody ever chooses me.

Progress is a river. It cannot be called back once it leaps its banks.

Nina had grieved for her loss of power, for the connection she’d felt to the living world. She’d resented this shadow gift. It had seemed like a sham, a punishment. But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She’d dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

No. You were mine when we were kids, and you’re mine now. You’ll always be mine.

Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Fucking sorry. That damn word echoes in my psyche—a curse that won’t fuck off.

Run, little stranger.

If she suddenly threw herself in a river or off a building or into traffic, there would be plenty of warning signs to point to. Did she seem depressed? She was distant. She didn’t make many friends. She was struggling in her classes. All true. But would it have mattered if she’d been someone else? If she’d been a social butterfly, they would have said she liked to drink away her pain. If she’d been a straight-A student, they would have said she’d been eaten alive by her perfectionism. There were always excuses for why girls died.

I watch him take the black one and write down one word that makes no sense. Mine.

But as you leave that dark gap in the trees behind, remember that to use a thing is not to own it and should you ever take a bride, listen closely to her questions. In them you may hear her true name like the thunder of a lost river, like the sighing of the sea.

Because I can’t talk? Because I can’t tell you how fucking breathtaking you are every second of every day? Because I can’t breathe without being near you? Someone like me… I’m different—I can’t be normal for you. I can’t defend you without using my fists or my bat, and I can’t touch you at the same time as telling you that you’re everything to me. I can’t whisper sweet nothings into your mouth and I can’t fucking marry you because not only am I your brother, but I’m defective.

- What could a river want with a mirror? - That is a question for the river.

Believe me or don’t, but you’re the only person in my life, and you always have been. And when you take your last breath, or I take mine, that won’t fucking change. You. Are. Mine. My goddamn property, do you understand?

Losing your voice to everyone is one thing, but losing your voice to someone you loved – trusted – is ten million times worse. I’ve never been heard.

Tobes. Help me,” Base says into the phone pressed to his ear. “The siblings are fucking in the backseat, and I’m certain the mute just spoke.

Sorry’s just a word to try to get out of something, to dodge trouble if you’ve been caught out. Sorry’s a five-letter disgrace that shouldn’t even need to be used. It should be abolished from the fucking dictionary.

Don’t silence me like that, he signs furiously. Don’t ever fucking silence me, Olivia.

She’s like my own sunrise. Beautiful. Perfect. She fills a part of me that’s been empty and dark for as long as I can remember.

I like rough kisses that hurt.

Stop saying that. We aren’t blood related. You aren’t my real sister, so what’s the goddamn problem?

Once the river was loosed, it could not be called back.

Malachi: Since you’re teaching me everything else, will you teach me how to say your name? I might fuck the pronunciation up a few times, but I want to know how to say it.

I love you more than everything: It shouldn’t have taken me losing you to realize that. I should’ve chosen you. Olivia

She likes to be hunted and caught and fucked.

The first time I saw you, I was yours. I’ll always be yours, Freckles. Our girl will be proud of the woman you’ve become. You’ll both always be my girls.

My name is Kade Mitchell, son of Tobias Mitchell, and I will not be fucking silent anymore.

I want your heart, every single fucking fragment that I’ve broken over the years. I have your past and your present, and I want to be a selfish asshole and have your future.

Please choose me. No one ever chooses me.

But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She’d dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

The only girl I've ever imagined giving my heart to. It might be a little black and a little jagged around the edges and my mind might be a little wild, but she owns them. Olivia owns my mind, body and soul.

Malachi Vize—my new favorite mute psychopath—is waiting for you.

And I want to hear your voice while I’m bouncing all over your cock, big brother.

At least I got to kiss her.

Because you’re going to be my wife. You’ve already taken my heart, my body, and my butchered soul, so you’ll take my fucking last name too.

remember that to use a thing is not to own it. And should you ever take a bride, listen closely to her questions. In them you may hear her true name like the thunder of a lost river, like the sighing of the sea.

He interrupted my meal—maybe now he’ll know better than to take away my food, the fucking asshole.

I close my eyes and make a wish. I wish someone would choose me.

It seems she has no idea how much I’m obsessed with her. Not just with her looks, but her heart, her fucking soul.

But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She'd dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

No time for dramatics,” Tobias Mitchell says in a deep voice, standing above the dead body. He’s wearing the same uniform as his victim. He nods to the door. “Let’s go. The building’s on fire, if you didn’t notice.

I shove at his chest again and again and again, until he snatches my wrists and pushes me into the wall. His mouth opens, as if he’s trying to say something, his lips shaping, no sound coming from them until he’s whispering, “Ol… Ol… N-N…

If possible was a river, it had long since leapt its banks and become a flood.

Small Town Rule #9: Someone is always in your business, but that’s okay because someone also always has your back. Seth

I don’t know how to beat them, he signs, his nostrils flaring, angry at his own words. I’m one man. But I’ll fight. For you, I’d do anything.

To all the readers who dream of being chased through the woods and face-fucked by their masked stepbrother.

But you are my sister. My dirty little sister who’s going to touch herself in front of me. Show your big brother what you sound like when you cum.

If someone found a way to remove you from existence, I would burn the world before making sure my soul found yours in the afterlife.

Olivia. My new little sister. I couldn’t protect my mom or Rex, but I think I could protect her. I will protect her. Because she’s mine.

I am, but a pretty little thing like you can call me Tobias.

Those voices are calling me a little liar while a devil chuckles on my shoulder. I’m a sneaky prick, and I don’t care.

Are you going to be my forever, Freckles?

You are also my priority. I would have always hunted for you to the ends of the fucking earth, little one.

Our broken puzzle pieces are finally firmly in place, and they’ll never be torn apart again.

She raised the long glass and peered back down at the harbor, at the passengers disembarking, but the image was blurry. Reluctantly, she released his hand. It felt like a promise, and she didn’t want to let go. She adjusted the lens, and her gaze caught on two figures moving down the gangplank. Their steps were graceful, their posture straight as knife blades. They moved like Suli acrobats. She drew in a sharp breath. Everything in her focused like the lens of the long glass. Her mind refused the image before her. This could not be real. It was an illusion, a false reflection, a lie made in rainbow-hued glass. She would breathe again and it would shatter. She reached for Kaz’s sleeve. She was going to fall. He had his arm around her, holding her up. Her mind split. Half of her was aware of his bare fingers on her sleeve, his dilated pupils, the brace of his body around hers. The other half was still trying to understand what she was seeing. His dark brows knitted together. “I wasn’t sure. Should I not have—” She could barely hear him over the clamor in her heart. “How?” she said, her voice raw and strange with unshed tears. “How did you find them?” “A favor, from Sturmhond. He sent out scouts. As part of our deal. If it was a mistake—” “No,” she said as the tears spilled over at last. “It was not a mistake.” “Of course, if something had gone wrong during the job, they’d be coming to retrieve your corpse.” Inej choked out a laugh. “Just let me have this.” She righted herself, her balance returning. Had she really thought the world didn’t change? She was a fool. The world was made of miracles, unexpected earthquakes, storms that came from nowhere and might reshape a continent. The boy beside her. The future before her. Anything was possible. Now Inej was shaking, her hands pressed to her mouth, watching them move up the dock toward the quay. She started forward, then turned back to Kaz. “Come with me,” she said. “Come meet them.” Kaz nodded as if steeling himself, flexed his fingers once more. “Wait,” he said. The burn of his voice was rougher than usual. “Is my tie straight?” Inej laughed, her hood falling back from her hair. “That’s the laugh,” he murmured, but she was already setting off down the quay, her feet barely touching the ground. “Mama!” she called out. “Papa!” Inej saw them turn, saw her mother grip her father’s arm. They were running toward her. Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

come with me," she said. "come meet them," Kaz nodded as if steeling himself, flexed his fingers once more "wait," he said. the burn of his voice was rougher than usual. "is my tie straight?" Inej laughed, her hood falling back from her hair. "that's the laugh," he murmured, but she was already setting off down the squat, her feet barely touching the ground. "Mama!" she called out. "Papa!" Inej saw the turn, saw her mother grip her father's arm. they were running toward her. Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea. Page 529

I’ll leave your hearing, so I can tell you when I win her back, so you can hear her moaning my fucking name. When I marry her. When she births my fucking children. And guess what? I’ll have all of that. You won’t. Because Stacey Rhodes has been mine since the day I fucking met her.

Because I can’t breathe without being near you? Someone like me… I’m different—I can’t be normal for you. I can’t defend you without using my fists or my bat, and I can’t touch you at the same time as telling you that you’re everything to me. I can’t whisper sweet nothings into your mouth and I can’t fucking marry you because not only am I your brother, but I’m defective.

Words like “missing you” and “I didn’t think it was possible to be without you, and now there’s a huge wall between us” and “will you visit me? I’m sorry for yelling at court” and my least favorite, a very dark time for me, “I’m not comfortable around these people. They call me a weirdo like the kids at school did because I won’t talk. Please don’t leave me in here,” yet she didn’t reply, even when my letters grew more desperate. No reply.

Base is wearing a Batman mask, because he’s an idiot.

Small town rule #4: Childhood isn’t complete without farm animals and 4-H.

I wouldn’t let you die for anyone. Not even me.

I want Olivia to choose me. Please choose me. Nobody ever chooses me.

Bullshit. The only one who ever protected me was Malachi.

I’m in love with Malachi,” I say more firmly, more to myself,

I promise you, Mom, if Malachi goes, I will leave with him.

Me: Why do you want to hold my hand? Malachi: Do I need a reason? Give me your hand, or I’ll tell Mom you touched my dick while I was asleep.

An evil smile crosses Tobias’s face. “Because, son,” he says, raising both brows, “I have Bernadette Sawyer.

You need a villain. I fear being the hero.

I’ll happily burn down the world and everyone in it to watch Cole squirm like a worm on my hook.

Sit next to me in the car ride home.” She hums. “Why?” “So I can hold your hand.” I shrug and press my mouth to hers. “Or your thigh. Whichever is more accessible.

Naked. Exposed. Branded with my mouth and my initials burned into her, and little cuts from my knife. She looks perfect. She looks like mine.

If I’m not allowed to touch you, then you need to do it yourself.

Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you for ages – it’s been all I’ve thought about. And I keep falling more in love with you every single fucking day.

I will kill anyone who touches you.

If I told him that I wanted him to chase me, pin me down, and take whatever he wanted, against my wishes or not, would he?

Fuck everyone in this car.

For those who crave darkness yet hide in the light. You can come out now. Tobias is home.

There’s only one fucking room available.

Help me,” Base says into the phone pressed to his ear. “The siblings are fucking in the backseat, and I’m certain the mute just spoke.

I should stop calling him that too. We aren’t siblings anymore. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend.

Run, Olivia. I want to chase you. I want to catch you. I want to fuck you until you scream so loud, you lose your voice just like I have.

It’s like I’m visiting heaven while living in hell. But I want to steal her and bring her to my chaos, set fucking fire to her world and keep her in mine.

No one fucks Stacey and gets away with it. I can’t have her, but nobody else will.

Under the skin of the devil they created, buried in the fucking void of the darkness he’s trapped in, I will find a glimmer of his humanity. Why? Because he’s mine.

I wish we lived in a world where I could give him this letter, that I could stand in front of him and watch him read word for word what it says before having the rest of our lives together.

I want to know if anything was ever real for you. Any of it. If you tell me you love me, that I mean the world to you, then I’ll admit that I feel the exact same. Because I do, Malachi. I love you so much it hurts.” I shut off the voicemail, and step forward, my body shaking with rage.

Your cum is leaking out of me,” she randomly tells me as she takes a picture of our boarding passes. The group of grannies nearby give us a horrifying look. “No, I’m serious. When I sneezed? Boom.

Let’s assume Kade does get his hands on me,” he says as he follows me with our bags. “Would you help him, Stacey?” I throw my head back and laugh. “He’s the son of Tobias Mitchell. He doesn’t need help.

For the natural polytheist who finds her gods in the rivers and mountains, in the deep-rooted giants looming above the canopy and in the tiny creatures that move beneath them, ecology gives us a glimpse into a kind of living anatomy of the divine, a theology of physical as well as spiritual life. - Alison Leigh Lilly, "Anatomy of a God

I’m going to destroy his face, so all the girls I’ve seen him partying with online will be terrified of him. I’ll carve my initials into his skin, stick his cock in acid, and then I’ll feed his brother his half-melted balls and slap him across the face with Xander’s liver.

Mani pārdod seksam un nāvei, lai aizsargātu visus, kurus mīlu.” Kade leans into me more, raising his other hand between us to tuck another strand of hair behind my ear. I tilt my head, utterly confused by whatever language he’s speaking. He licks his lips. “Tajā skaitā jūs, vasaras raibumi.

You don’t need to apologise to me.” “Do you always do that?” he asks. I tilt my head. “Do what?” “Ignore your own demons to cater to everyone else’s? From what I’ve witnessed, you seem to run after those around you, be there for them, centre yourself in their trauma, and no one seems to do the same for you.

Nina had grieved for her loss of power, for the connection she'd felt to the living world. But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She's dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

He’s wrong. If it was over, then what the hell has this entire trip been? The sex. The kiss. The need to hold me. We aren’t done. Kade

Barry crouches down to Cassie’s corpse and checks her pulse. “She’s dead.” Tobias frowns like a child just kicked his shin. “Of course she’s dead. Are your eyes working? Her brain is splattered on the ground, you fucking idiot.” Barry mutters to himself then looks up at Kade’s dad. “I was just stating a fact.” “A useless fact,” he counters. “Any others? You want to tell me the sky is blue while you’re at it?

You’re mine, Malachi. You’re mine and I’m yours and I love you more than words can explain. Please forgive me. Please. I want you. I want to be with you, build a life with you, and make memories with you. I want to wake up every morning with you by my side. I want you to chase me through these woods and take me against a tree. I want everything you have to give. All of it. Everything. Because I choose you. I—” Malachi kisses me into silence. It’s a claiming kiss that takes my breath away. He grins against my lips. “I love you, Olivia.

My pet is crawling up the side of her face, and I can see the fear in her expression—it makes me chuckle. “The itsy bitsy spider,” I whisper against her ear, sliding in and out of her cunt. “Climbed up the waterspout.” My tone is surprisingly good, considering. Maybe it’s the fact I’m distracted by my body pressed against hers, or the way her pussy clutches at my cock as I keep thrusting, her breaths gasping out of her in both fear and pleasure. “Down came the rain,” I say slowly, biting my lip and groaning as I get deeper into her depths. “And washed… the spider… out.

Angel?” My dad’s voice comes from the bottom of the stairs, and I somehow manage to perch on my elbows while Malachi bruises my thighs with his grip, sweat coating my skin as my dad stands with my discarded jeans in his hand, mortification all over his face. “Daddy?” I whisper, my eyes rolling, falling back as my spine tingles, my breasts turning tender as my brother keeps eating me out, despite my dad being present. He rushes up the stairs, stopping when he sees who’s destroying his baby girl’s pussy. “Malachi!” Dad grabs his shoulder and tries to pull him away from me, but my brother’s grip doesn’t falter; nor do the strokes of his tongue, and we’re both dragged across the floor while Dad tries to get him off me. My brother doesn’t stop, and my eyes close as my dad tries again. His mouth disconnects from my pussy, and I whimper from the loss, and the next thing, Malachi is being dragged off me, and Dad punches him. Malachi’s nose is bleeding when he stands up, gathering something in his mouth before he grabs Dad’s jaw and spits in his face. Your daughter tastes fucking delicious, he signs. Too bad she’s all mine.

Because this land they live in is a land of missing things. A land stripped of its gold, its rivers, its buffalo, its Indians, its tiger, its jackals, its birds and its green and its living. To move through this land and believe Ba's tales is to see each hill as a burial mound with its own crown of bones. Who could believe that and survive? Who could believe that and keep from looking, as Ba and Sam do, always toward the past? Letting it drag behind them. Letting it make them into fools. And so Lucy fears that unwritten history. Easier to dismiss all Ba's tales as tall ones - because believe, and where does it end? If she believes that tigers live, then does she believe that Indians are hunted and dying? If she believes in fish the size of men, does she believe in men who string up others like linefuls of catch? Easier to avoid that history, unwritten as it is except in the soughing of dry grass, in the marks of lost trails, in the rumors from the mouths of bored men and mean girls, in the cracked patterns of buffalo bone. Easier by far to read the history that Teacher Leigh teaches, those names and dates orderly as bricks, stacked to build a civilization.

When he struck the icy water, he feared his heart might stop. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the force of the river was terrifying, flowing fast and hard as an avalanche. The noise was deafening even beneath the water, but with fear also came a kind of giddy vindication. He’d been right. The Voice of God. There was always truth in legend. Kaz had spent enough time building his own myth to know. He’d wondered where the water that fed the Ice Court’s moat and fountains came from, why the river gorge was so very deep and wide. As soon as Nina had described the drüskelle initiation ritual, he’d known: The Fjerdan stronghold hadn’t been built around a great tree but around a spring. Djel, the wellspring, who fed the seas and rains, and the roots of the sacred ash. Water had a voice. It was something every canal rat knew, anyone who had slept beneath a bridge or weathered a winter storm in an overturned boat—water could speak with the voice of a lover, a long-lost brother, even a god.