Quicksilver Callie Hart Quotes

Nobody will ever fuck you the way I'm about to fuck you, Saeris Fane. I'm about to introduce you to all seven gods. When you meet them, don't forget to tell them I'm the one you worship on your knees.

I'll be grateful for every second that I can say that I belong to you, Saeris Fane. Eighty years or eighteen hours. It doesn't matter to me. It'll still be the highest honor of my life.

I don't want bright and happy,” he whispered roughly. “I want real.

For those who live their nightmares, so that others may have their dreams.

Don’t call her Sunshine,” he commanded. “Why not?” If Carrion’s plan was to poke the bear, then he sure as hell knew how to go about it. But Kingfisher didn’t respond to the taunting note in his question. He just cocked his head a little, nostrils flaring, and spoke in a low rumble. “Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.

Fuck the fates. They don’t get to decide shit for me. I decide what my future is going to be.

Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.

He is the storm. You are the peace that must come after it. Tell me, do you believe in the fates, Alchemist?

She has a mind and a mouth of her own. I am the keeper of neither.

Human, Fae, or Vampire. It doesn’t matter how long you live, Saeris, you will always be most sacred to me.

That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.

I'm in love with you, Saeris Fane,” he whispered quietly into my hair. “And I'm already half-mad, anyway. What's a little complicated thrown into the mix?

Urgh! Do you have to be so difficult?” His eyes danced. “It isn’t mandatory, but I do enjoy it.

I’ll be grateful for every second that I can say I belong to you, Saeris Fane.

Never forget… Monsters thrive best in the dark.

Don't you dare die on my watch, Saeris Fane! Fisher will never forgive me if his sole reason for living is torn to pieces on her first fucking battlefield.

I hadn't seen many beautiful things in my short life. But, of all the beautiful things I had seen, Fisher was the most beautiful of all.

Sure. Why not. I'm too pretty to die old, anyway.

Make me forget that I've ever suffered,” I commanded. “Make me forget that I will again.

An Oshellith is a type of butterfly,” he called as he went. “Osha for short. They hatch, live, and die all in one day. The cold kills them very fast. Isn’t that right, Renfis?

Be unrelenting and unmerciful in the face of the wicked dead,” Fisher said. Ren laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. “And if you should find soul sundered from flesh, order a drink for us at the first tavern you come across in the afterlife. We’ll settle the tab when we get there.

I sobbed. The name he gave me, the name I hated, was a declaration of what I meant to him even then.

Always pay attention to the fine print. The devil's in the details. Now go.

He would claim my better days and carry me during my worst.

There is no way you can still smell me on him.” “There's every way,” Fisher rumbled, his eyes darkening. “I'd know the smell of you anywhere. On anyone. I'd know it blind and in the dark. Across a fucking sea. I'd be able to scent you—

Rumors are next-door neighbors to gossip, and gossip always breaks bread with lies. It's just the way these things go.

Death is an open doorway that’s meant to be walked through. On the other side of it lies peace. Count yourself lucky that you get to make the journey at all.

Everlayne had been waiting for me when I returned to my room yesterday. She hadn't banked on Kingfisher kicking in my bedroom door, me thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and wailing like a banshee. Nor had she expected his ultra-foul temper, his split bottom lip, or the thin line of blood trickling down his chin. She'd squawked when he'd thrown me unceremoniously down onto my bed and snarled, “Bad human,” at me.

Every warrior in Innìr will smell me on you, Fisher's voice rumbled in my mind. I'm going to make you hoarse from screaming my fucking name. I'm going to mark you in every way imaginable, so that everyone knows you're fucking mine.

Right. Sure.” Humans and Fae were different in many ways, but sarcasm was universal.

For those who live their nightmares so that others may have their dreams.

Fisher rested his chin on top of his forearms and sighed. “What?” I whispered. He thought for a moment, appearing to decide whether he'd answer the question. Then he said, “I was wrong, y’know. You are a good thief.” “What have I stolen?” But he smiled a small, sad smile, slowly shaking his head. “Sleep a little. The water will stay warm. I'll be back as soon as I've spoken to Ren.

You're incorrigible!” “I don't know what that means.” “Yes, you fucking do!” “All right. I do. What's your point?

Saeris Fane was twenty-four years of age when she died. Honestly, she should have died a lot sooner, but the girl never did know when to give up.

Did you hear that?” he said. “What?” “That smoking hot blonde said I was pretty.” “Gods alive, Carrion. Do not tell me you have a thing for Danya. She’s fucking awful.” “Eh.” He shot me a rakish grin. “I love a girl with a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. Kinda makes my dick hard.

Kingfisher considered me, one eyebrow curving with interest. “Are you thinking about running? Gods, I hope so. I'll give you a head start if you like. It's been an age since I've hunted anything.

Funny how your own impending demise will rob a girl of her desire to take in the scenery.

I swore I'd be still while you kissed me. At no point did I promise to exercise restraint if you climbed up into my lap and started grinding yourself against my cock.

That your body is betraying you in other ways. That I can smell you, Little Osha, and I’m thinking about drinking the sweet nectar you’re making for me straight from the fucking cup.

My soul was on fire, and I didn't care if I burned for all eternity. So long as I was burning with him, then so be it.

Rule number three. Do not make me do any physical activity,” he snarled. “What part about 'I am hungover' did you not fucking understand!

When I get you out of these clothes, you're in trouble,” he snarled in my head. “I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able sit down for a week.

Once upon a time, that was the case. Back when true mating bonds existed. Unions between true mates were blessed with marks from the Fates.

Maybe the issue is that you asked me a question about my cock like a hungry little bitch in heat and didn't ask me something that mattered.

Of course Death was beautiful. How else would anyone choose to go with him without putting up a fight?

I can't wait to hear what kind of sounds you make when I thrust into you for the first time,” he purred. “I'm going to make you pant for me, Little Osha. And when we're done, I'll close my eyes and replay the sound of you moaning in my head every time I stroke myself to completion.

Let your knees fall open,” he demanded. “I—” “No arguments, Osha. I've driven myself half-crazy wondering what you look like. I need to fucking see. Put me out of my misery.

But you couldn't hate something without caring about it just a little, too.

I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t like it at all. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary. To avoid far more serious pain, sometimes we have to endure a little sting.

I love a girl with a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. Kinda makes my dick hard.

After much consideration, he said, "It looks like a Simon.

I’ve never been one to trust in the gods, but I choose to believe that all things come from the same place when life begins. I have hope that they return to the same place when it ends. I’ll be waiting for you there, Saeris Fane.

Do you have any idea what those boots cost me?” “Let me guess. Your virginity.

There you go again. Hungry, needy little bitch in heat, begging to be fucked...” he taunted.

If it were up to me, we wouldn't spend another night without each other again.” Gently, he reached for the end of my braid and drew it over my shoulder toward him. He slowly unfastened it, working my hair loose with his fingers. His eyes were cautious when they sought out mine. “Does that scare you?” he murmured.

Fear the shadows, bitch. I’m made of them.

Even filthy and tired, you’re still beautiful.

Please, for the love of the gods, don't say anything. Just let me have my fantasy. Just for tonight.

He'd accepted me as his mate.

Because you're a nice Fae warrior, unlike Fisher, who is the devil incarnate.

You've got me, Little Osha. And I've got you.

I had known Death’s voice to be a howling hot wind across the parched desert. A wet, hacking cough in the night. The urgent cry of a starving baby. I had never for one moment imagined his voice might also be the stroke of velvet in the ever-encroaching darkness.

What were you even thinking?” Everlayne growled, slapping down the folds of the skirt some more so that it hung properly. “He's a Fae warrior, Saeris. You can not go around punching Fae warriors.

It’s Saeris. My name. Call me that or nothing at all.” He cast an amused look over his shoulder, his lips parted a fraction, exposing the briefest glimpse of teeth. “Nothing at all? I like the sound of that. Come here and look at this, Nothing At All.

It's a fox! A pest! This is probably what was living in the hearth before we ripped that den out. They steal food from the kitchens.” The creature wasn't nearly as hideous as I'd first thought. I darted forward, stooping low, covering the little thing with my body, gripped by a sudden remorse. “You definitely can't kill it then. Not if we destroyed its home.” “It's going to bite you,” Kingfisher said. “No, it won't. It—” It bit me.

Alchemy, it turned out, was a form of magic. Forgotten, long-dead, old magic that was as much a myth to the Fae of Yvelia as they were to the people of Zilvaren.

Then he said, “I was wrong, y’know. You are a good thief.” “What have I stolen?” But he smiled a small, sad smile, slowly shaking his head. “Sleep a little.

I’ll come and tell you everything I remember about them later, but for now, I want to be alone with my mate.” He said it with such pride. My mate.

It was harsh, but sometimes the cruel things we said served the kindest purpose.

There's every way,” Fisher rumbled, his eyes darkening. “I'd know the smell of you anywhere. On anyone. I'd know it blind and in the dark. Across a fucking sea. I'd be able to scent you—

Careful, human. We Fae have an excellent sense of smell. You’d be amazed what we can scent floating on the air.” “I—I wasn’t doing anything. I didn’t—” Oh, gods. I was going to die of embarrassment.

Ren laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. “And if you should find soul sundered from flesh, order a drink for us at the first tavern you come across in the afterlife. We’ll settle the tab when we get there.

If I were evil and using your oath for my own purposes, I'd order you onto your knees for me,” he said, cutting me off. “I'd order you to part your legs for me. I'd order you to suck and fuck me until you passed out from exhaustion. Is that what you want, Little Osha?

I searched his face, my heart working overtime. “You made it very clear that, as far as you were concerned, it was going to be a one-time thing,” I said slowly. “You made it very clear that you could hate me and still want to fuck me. And I'm not the type of person who keeps throwing herself at the things that hurt her. So no. I haven't brought it up. What would have been the point? Would you have made me a cup of tea and sat and listened while I tried to convince you how good we could be together?” He snorted dismissively.

He was cold morning air, and smoke, and fresh-turned earth,

How the hell am I supposed to stay alive in the middle of a war zone, Fisher?” When he laughed this time, the sound was hollow. “By sticking close, Osha. Really close.

My name is Carrion Swift. But there was a time when I was known as Carrion Daianthus. First born son to Rurik and Amelia Daianthus.

He pointed at his foot. “Where the fuck is my other boot?

Pants and a shirt,” I said dryly. “And a pair of boots with really good soles. Do you have any idea what those boots cost me?” “Let me guess. Your virginity.” “Fuck you, Fisher.

Whatever the cost would be for staying with him, I would pay it. Yes, I said.

Because I don't just throw my hands up and accept defeat when things get hard. I'm honestly shocked to learn that you do.

I wanted to save you from this. I didn’t want you to suffer with me.

If you try to punch me again, I'll tie your hands behind your fucking back,

Because I'm magic.” “What about you is magic?” “Everything,” he said, entering the room. “My looks. My sword skills. My personality—” “Your personality is trash.

Your personality is trash.

And then I punched him square in the mouth.

a plume of black smoke swept me up off the floor, and suddenly I was in Fisher’s arms. His face was streaked with ichor, eyes full of panic. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?

By my own hand, I’ll make sure the piece of soul he loaned to me finds its way back to him. And if the fates consider it just, and I’ve done enough to earn a place at his side, I’ll go quietly and happily with my brother into whatever lies beyond.

She hadn’t banked on Kingfisher kicking in my bedroom door, me thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and wailing like a banshee. Nor had she expected his ultra-foul temper, his split bottom lip, or the thin line of blood trickling down his chin. She’d squawked when he’d thrown me unceremoniously down onto my bed and snarled, “Bad human,” at me.

Even the strongest warrior’s heart can break. His soul can still be crushed. Since I won’t be able to comfort you when the challenges before you feel too great, take this book and keep it as a guide. Above all, know this. There will be times when the world seeks to destroy you, Kingfisher. But you are stronger than you can ever know. You will not falter. And you will not face it all alone.

Good.” I flipped the sword and handed it to him. “Then give it a name and let’s go.” The evening was almost here, and the others were waiting for us. Carrion held the sword, turning it this way and that. After much consideration, he said, “It looks like a Simon.” “Simon?” “Yeah. Simon. Don’t blame me. That’s what it looks—” He stopped talking and listened. “See. It likes the name. It wants to be Simon.

I'm sorry, Saeris, but it's more complicated than that.” “Is it?” Kingfisher asked abruptly. He was no longer staring into space. His eyes bored into Everlayne so intensely that I found myself thanking the gods that he wasn't looking at me like that. “Humans are usually weak, fickle creatures, but I'll admit, I admire this one's loyalty. She values her family over everything else. There's something to be said for that.

We are nothing alike,” he said quietly. “You nearly died from a scratch that would have been a mild irritation to me. You are soft. You are fragile. You are vulnerable. You are a newborn fawn, stumbling around in the dark, surrounded by predators with very sharp teeth. I am the thing that exists on the other side of the dark. I’m the thing that puts the fear of the gods into the monsters who would eat you bones and all.

Fisher glared at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. “I hate that fucking place, but I went there for you. I got stabbed seven times in various parts of my body. For you. This prick said he was Hayden. His blood said he was Hayden. I did what I said I was going to do. Now move. We're getting the hell out of here.

You tell it a joke then!” I held out the crucible containing the quicksilver, and Carrion huffed, peering at the roiling liquid metal. “All right. Fine. A husband turns to his wife one day and says, ‘y’know, I bet you can’t think of something to tell me that will make me both happy and sad at the same time.’ The wife doesn’t even need to think about it. She turns to her husband and says, ‘your cock is way bigger than your brother’s.

I don't want to talk about dresses,” I whispered. “Fair enough. Let’s talk about food, then.” “Food?” He nodded. “Don't share food with that prick again, Little Osha.” “What?” “Swift. Earlier. Back in the war room. You were trading that cake back and forth with him for ages.” “It wasn’t cake.” “I don’t care what it was. Just stop sharing food with him.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice. One that dared me to challenge this order. If he hadn’t learned by now that I wasn’t one to be told what to do, then perhaps he needed reminding. “Why not?” “Because I fucking said so.

The ink flowed beneath his skin, crossing from him to...to...sinners, it flowed along my fingertips, spreading over my skin, flowing just like his smoke over the backs of my hands. A delicate little bird took shape on the inside of my right forearm. It stretched its wings and took flight, its tiny body flitting over my stomach as its wings beat a thousand times a minute.

Trot? I laughed scathingly. “Nothing you can say or do will incentivize me to smash my genitals against this saddle any harder or faster than they’re already being smashed.” “Feeling a little sore, human?” “Sore doesn’t come close,” I grumbled. “I’ll happily kiss all of your aches and pains better for you once we strike camp. I’ve been told my mouth has healing properties. Especially when administered between a pair of thighs.

Fisher’s very single-minded sometimes. There’s no grey. Only black and white. I fear that part of him has only gotten worse while he’s been away. He has to keep things very straight in his mind, otherwise lines get blurred. Right now, you’re a tool he feels he has to use to make life better for us all. My concern is that a tool pushed to its limit is a tool that will probably break. And to be blunt, Saeris, you’re a tool none of us can afford to let Fisher break. He needs to see you as a person. He needs to know that you’re more than our way out of a tight corner. And the only way to accomplish that is if he learns more about you.

Hold on tight then. I hope you're not afraid of the dark.” He thrust forward, slamming himself inside me, and I screamed. Not from the pain. There wasn't any. Only a stretching, and a fullness, and an awesome wave of energy that fired up my spine in a series of bursts that felt like small explosions. It was so much, all at once, that I had to scream. As if he were experiencing something very similar, Fisher threw his head back, the muscles in his neck straining, his jaw clenched tight, roaring through his teeth. 'Fuuuuck!” Just one stroke. He'd entered me once, and I was done for. I was a ball of sensation, humming with energy. In the darkness, Fisher slowly lowered his head, his lips parted, hair mussed, and the dazed look of surprise on his face sent a rush of adrenalin powering through me. Gods and Martyrs. I would never forget seeing him like this. If I did manage to make my way back home, the image of him like this, seated inside me, skin slick with sweat, chest hitching, would sustain me until the day I died. Fisher. Kingfisher. Lord of Cahlish. I hated him, I did. But you couldn't hate something without caring about it just a little, too. “Witch,” he accused. “You do have magic.” He was so fucking big; his hard length twitched inside me, and my body answered in kind, tightening around him. His fingers gouged into my skin, digging deeper into my hips. With a mantle of black smoke swirling around him like a dark wind, he moved. Slowly, at first. The tendons in his neck stood proud as he pulled back and eased out of me just an inch. The smallest of movements drew him home. Again, he shifted, rolling his hips, working his cock a little deeper each time he thrust back into me. The pace he set was torturous.