Savannah Life Quotes

Fiction has been maligned for centuries as being "false," "untrue," yet good fiction provides more truth about the world, about life, and even about the reader, than can be found in non-fiction.

All that is left to bring you pain, are the memories. If you face those, you’ll be free. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding from yourself; always afraid that your memories will incapacitate you, and they will if you continue to bury them.

No one in her life had ever loved her so honestly. And this was not going to be the end of her story. Not today.

A world without poetry and art would be too much like one without birds or flowers: bearable but a lot less enjoyable.

I wish I could get away with not giving a damn.

Poetry and art nourish the soul of the world with the flavor-filled substances of beauty, wisdom and truth.

It has been my personal experience that as I allow the painting to speak I become lost, it is delicious and at the same time frightening. The best ones, to me, have a life of their own.

In all my life, I'd never been as sure of anything, and as much as I hoped to one day hear Savannah say these words to me, what mattered most was knowing that love was mine to give, without strings or expectations.

The music of revelation announces itself to the reader in somber brooding tones or in melodies light as air and one is invited to dance with the most captivating of partners: poetry.

How had his life changed so much in one day? He tipped his head to see her face. She’d changed everything. She’d said tonight was just sex, but he’d had that countless times over his long existence. Enough to know what they’d just shared was something new. And he suspected he’d never get enough.

You underestimate your value, Savannah." The threat was clear in her voice. “You do as I tell you. Simple as that. Your life is mine now.” From Vampire Princess Rising- book two in the Winters Saga

She clung to the ropes. “I should go back. This was a stupid idea.” “Wait until you see Savannah from up here.” He clasped her other wrist, too. “Let go, Skye. I won’t let you fall.” She looked up into his eyes. “Putting my life in your hands is more trust than I intended on a first date.” His lips twitched into a tentative smile. “Didn’t know we were on a date.

I am not worried if scientists go and explain everything. This is for a very simple reason: an impala sprinting across the Savannah can be reduced to biomechanics, and Bach can be reduced to counterpoint, yet that does not decrease one iota our ability to shiver as we experience impalas leaping or Bach thundering. We can only gain and grow with each discovery that there is structure underlying the most accessible levels of things that fill us with awe. But there is an even stronger reason why I am not afraid that scientists will inadvertently go and explain everything--it will never happen. While in certain realms, it may prove to be the case that science can explain anything, it will never explain everything. As should be obvious after all these pages, as part of the scientific process, for every question answered, a dozen newer ones are generated. And they are usually far more puzzling, more challenging than than the prior problems. This was stated wonderfully in a quote by a geneticist named Haldane earlier in the century: "Life is not only stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine." We will never have our flames extinguished by knowledge. The purpose of science is not to cure us of our sense of mystery and wonder, but to constantly reinvent and reinvigorate it.

If you could see your whole life laid out before you, there’d be no reason to live it, right?

Forgiveness, I’ve learned, is like a door. You can open yourself up to it or close yourself off from it at any time. We can’t rewrite history or change the outcome. Life is a series of choices. And we live in and with those choices we make.

Hopefully, you will glimpse something of your own life’s journey and with Elemental’s Power of Illuminated Love, possibly recognize and celebrate something you had not been able to recognize or celebrate before.

The old woman’s voice echoed through his mind, like she’d been lurking in the shadows as the centuries passed, just waiting. ‘A woman with violet eyes will signal the beginning and ending of your life.

Journey through the Power of the Rainbow represents a condensed compendium of literary efforts from a life dedicated to transforming the themes of injustice, grief, and despair that we all encounter during some unavoidable point of our existence into a sustainable life-affirming poetics of passionate creativity, empowered spiritual vision, and inspired commitment.

If we lose sight of pleasures and luxuries that intoxicate the senses in the most sensuous and beautiful and simplest of ways, then we`ve lost a lot.

We are most our true selves when life and death walk hand in hand. When crisis comes, and tragedy explodes, our true character comes to the fore.

Well, at least she doesn’t have to be a housewife the rest of her life,” she said. “What in the hell do you have against housewives?” I said. “I was raised by one,” Savannah said. “And it almost ruined my life.” “I got knocked around by a shrimper when I was a kid,” said Luke, “but I never blamed the shrimp.

Anytime we worked a quilt, it was the thing to do to set out an empty chair. It was for the missing woman. The friend who might call, just as you'd sat to quilt, and who might bring a loaf of bread, lend a hand, do a square.... There are times I miss the things I haven't done in my life. The things that Savannah is so good at doing, like taking up the empty chair.

Gregori gathered Savannah tenderly into his arms. Come to me,my life and breath. Wake and be with me. He gave the command,and even as he felt her heart flutter, he pressed her mouth to his throat.Feed, ma petite. Feed and replenish what you selflessly gave to me. Savannah turned her head,her first breath a sigh of warmth against his throat.

How did you find me?" "I always know where you are, every moment.Five years ago you said you needed time, and I gave it to you. But I've never left you. I never will." There was a gentle finality to his words, an echo of the resolve in his mind. Savannah's heart lurched. "Don't do this, Gregori. You know how I feel. I've created a new life for myself." His hand,gentle in her hair, sent butterflied rising in her stomach. "You cannot change what you are. You are my lifemate, and it is time for you to come to me.

Even though you may not want to hear it, I want you to know that you’ll always be a part of me. In our time together, you claimed a special place in my heart, one I’ll carry with me forever and that no one can ever replace. You’re a hero and a gentleman, you’re kind and honest, but more than that, you’re the first man I ever truly loved. And no matter what the future brings, you always will be, and I know that my life is better for it. I’m so sorry— Savannah

And I’ll tell you something else. I’m not worried that you’ll find someone else, because there isn’t anyone else on the face of the earth who could ever love you as much as I do. It’s impossible because no man has ever loved a woman as much as I love you. And I’m not worried about me finding someone else, because you brought me back from the dead and gave me a second chance at life. You’re my miracle, Savannah, and I will always belong to you.

In the vocabulary of certain radical theorists contradictions are given the status of some deadly disease to which their opponents alone can succumb. But contradictions are the very stuff of life. If there had been a little dash of contradiction among the Gadarene swine some of them might have been saved from drowning.

I know what I am, Savannah, a monster such as the human world cannot conceive. But I have always had honor, integrity, and a talent for healing. I can make you two promises. I will never have untruth between us, and I will protect you with my life. I have said I will not take what is mine this night. We have time to calm your fears.

How was Savannah supposed to pretend this glamorous life was what she’d always known? She was from a slummy neighborhood in a town outside San Francisco. These people were going to see right through her.

Love is irrelative to some.” Most people let me stop there. They never make me elaborate. But Savannah says, “And is it to you?” I have a couple fingers to my jaw, and I smile, something that looks empty and soulless on screen. “Yes,” I say. “Love holds no meaning in my life.

We will always be in each other's life." "And so too, the betrayals. They'll be there too." Savannah seemed stunned but Clarissa noticed her quick recovery. "And so too, the laughter," she said as she began to close the door behind her. "And so too, the love," she added as the lock caught.

It's like the control insects at the Laboratory. Di d I ever tell you about them? Well, we keep a lot of insect colonies in big glass jars out there. Some of them have been breeding for twenty-five years. That's a thousand generations. All they know about life is what goes on inside their Jar. They haven't been exposed to pesticides or pollution, so they haven't developed immunities or evolved in any way. They stay the same, generation after generation. If we released them into the outside world, they'd die. I think something like that happens after seven generations in Savannah. Savannah gets to be the only place you can live. We're like bugs in a jar.

Like with all other things in life, magic is just a solution that offers its own set of complications.

The life we live is the life we choose with every decision of the heart, soul and mind. What do we do with our survival? Now what?

Lion, lion golden spun in savannahs of the sun, What immortal eye, or hand weaves beasts from dreams, sews sky to land?

As the saying goes, the unexamined life is not worth-living.

I've missed you so much, Savannah. I want to tell you now that we're both back in Georgia, I'm going to do what I have to, to win you back." She gasped. " What?" "I said, I'm going to win you back." He moved in closer. "I've never stopped loving you, and I know you still care about me. I will do what I can to bring what you felt for me back to life, and when I am done, I plan to make you my wife.

I am no vampire.I am Carpathian, and you are my lifemate. I will protect you with my life. I will always see to your happiness." She took a deep breath for control, then let it escape slowly. "We are not lifemates.I did not choose." She held on to that fact, her only hope. "We can discuss this at a more opportune time." She nodded warily. "I'll meet you tomorrow then." His silent laughter filled her mind. Low. Amused. Frustratingly male. "You will come with me now." His voice lowered an octave, became warm honey, compelling, hypnotic, so mesmerizing it was impossible to fight. Savannah dropped her forehead against the muscles of his chest. Tears were burning in her eyes and throat. "I'm afraid of you,Gregori," she admitted painfully. "I can't live the life of a Carpathian. I'm like my mother. I'm too independent, and I need my own life." "I know of your fears, ma petite. I know your every thought. The bond between us is strong enough to cross oceans.We can deal with your fears together.

There a series of Catholic rituals and teachings had offered her young life a coherent universe. By 1946, Savannah had for O’Connor ceded to the university world of Iowa, where new influences, including intellectual joys, brought with them questions and skepticism.

Yet she was so sweet. She wasn’t a hard-ass, wasn’t jaded after all that had been done to her. In bed, she was giving and generous. And she smiled a lot. She seemed to enjoy life. Whereas he’d been nothing but a giant pain in the ass, taking for granted everything that had been given to him. He’d had it so easy, while his parents had struggled to give him a good life so all he had to do was go out and live his dream. He and Savannah were as different as night and day. How could she tolerate being around him? He was nothing but a spoiled football player who craved the spotlight. He didn’t deserve to be sharing a bed with her. She needed someone who cared for her, who thought of nothing but her, who’d give up everything just to give her the kind of life she deserved. He sucked in a breath and realized it was time he made some serious life changes. It was time to go all in and stop hesitating about the things he really wanted in his career. In his life. It was time to start taking some chances.

All it took was a chance meeting with a stranger, some unexpected conversation. A few moments of kindness from someone who had no inkling of what she’d been through. Someone who wandered into her workplace on a whim and ended up making the worst day of her life seem less awful simply by being in it. “Nice to meet you, Gideon.” “Likewise, Savannah.

What if I can't do this, Gregori?" She sounded close to tears. "What if I can never do this?" "No one is making you do anything, ma petite," he replied gently, kissing her stomach. "We are just exploring possibilites." "But,Gregori," she tried to protest, attempting to bring his head back up so that he could see her very real fear for him, for their life together. "If I cannot persaude you otherwise, mon amour, I am not much of a lifemate, now am I?" The words were muffled in the tight silky curls, the intriguing little triangle at the apex of her thighs. "You don't understand,Gregori." Savannah closed her eyes against the waves of fire racing through her. "It's me who is no real lifemate.I don't know how to please you, and I'm so afraid of this." "Relax,bebe." He breathed warm air against her, inhaled her scent. "You please me far more than you will ever know.

Sometimes faith is simply choosing to live. Choosing to coexist with questions for which there will never be a satisfying explanation. Not in this life anyway.

even though life will take the things and the people you love from you, you should never, ever stop celebrating that you are alive.

Life is a battle, so do not give up fighting.

You’re witnessing Mother Nature at her finest, Jonah. Life is like a thunderstorm—unpredictable, beautiful, and sometimes dangerous.

I'm not letting you -- us -- go that easily, sweetheart, so get used to having me in your life.

she spent most of her life trying not to do exactly what she wanted to do.

He fucking loved this woman. And he prayed that wouldn't cost her life.

pinned here, find recurring dreams, conspiracy theories, their answer when i asked them to take me to the worst day of their life and describe the color of the sky: sapphire paint and human hair and the rosetta stone. can i worship what's mine? this is the problem. i move onto folding moments into catacombs, as if there are any noble or artistic ways to display the curse of yearning.

Place your hand over your heart. Feel that? Feel your heart beating? Do you know what that means? It means you are still alive. And if you are still alive, it means there’s still a purpose for your life.

Ife onye metalu' ['what a man commits'] - a statement unclear and menacing in its very inconclusiveness. What a man commits...Follows him? Comes back to take its toll? Was that all? No, that was only part of it ... The real burden of that cryptic scripture seemed to turn the matter right around. Whatever we see following a man, whatever fate comes to take its revenge on him, can only be what that man in some way or another, in a previous life if not in this, has committed. That was it! So those three words wrapped in an archaic tongue and tucked away at the tail of the bus turn out to be the opening segment of a full-blooded heathen antiphony offering a primitive and quite deadly exposition of suffering. The guilty suffers; the sufferer is guilty. As for the righteous, those whose arms are straight, they will always prosper!

Wanting his mind on other matters, she deliiberately challenged his statement. "You don't know so much about me. There was a man once. He was crazy about me." She tried to look wordly. "Absolutely crazy for me." His answering laughter was warm against her neck, her throat. His lips touched the skin over her pulse and skimmed lightly up to her ear. "Are you, by any chance, referring to that foppish boy with the orange hair and spiked collar? Dragon something?" Savannah gasped and pulled away to glare at im. "How could you possibly know about him? I dated him last year." Gregori nuzzled her neck, inhaling her fragrance, his hand sliding over her shoulder, moving gently over her satin skin to take possession of her breast. "He wore boots and rode a Harley." His breath came out in a rush as his palm cupped the soft weight, his thumb brushing her nipple into a hard peak. The feel of his large hand-so strong, so warm and possessive on her-sent heat curling through her body. Desire rose sharply. He was seducing her with tenderness. Savannah didn't want it to happen. Her body felt better, but the soreness was there to remind her where this could all lead. Her hand caught at his wrist. "How did you find out about Dragon?" she asked, desperate to distract him, to distract herself. How could he make her body burn for his when she was so afraid of him, of having sex with him? "Making love," he corrected, his voice husky, caressing, betraying the ease with which his mind moved like a shadow through hers."And to answer your question, I live in you, can touch you whenever I wish.I knew about all of them. Every damn one." He growled the worrds, and her breath caught in her throat. "He was the only one you thought of kissing." His mouth touched hers. Gently. Lightly. Returned for more. Coaxing, teasing, until she opened to him. He stole her breath, her reason, whirling her into a world of feeling.Bright colors and white-hot heat, the room falling away until there was only his broad shoulders,strong arms, hard body, and perfect,perfect mouth. When he lifted his head, Savannah nearly pulled him back to her.He watched her face,her eyes cloudy with desire, her lips so beautiful, bereft of his. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Savannah? There is such beauty in your soul,I can see it shining in your eyes." She touched his face, her palm molding his strong jaw. Why couldn't she resist his hungry eyes? "I think you're casting a spell over me. I can't remember what we were talking about." Gregori smiled. "Kissing." His teeth nibbled gently at her chin. "Specifically,your wanting to kiss that orange-bearded imbecile." "I wanted to kiss every one of them," she lied indignantly. "No,you did not.You were hoping that silly fop would wipe my taste from your mouth for all eternity." His hand stroked back the fall of hair around her face.He feathered kisses along the delicate line of her jaw. "It would not have worked,you know.As I recall,he seemed to have a problem getting close to you." Her eyes smoldered dangerously. "Did you have anything to do with his allergies?" She had wanted someone, anyone,to wipe Gregori's taste from her mouth,her soul. He raised his voice an octave. "Oh, Savannah, I just have to taste your lips," he mimicked. Then he went into a sneezing fit. "You haven't ridden until you've ridden on a Harley,baby." He sneezed, coughed, and gagged in perfect imitation. Savannah pushed his arm, forgetting for a moment her bruised fist. When it hurt, she yelped and glared accusingly at him. "It was you doing all that to him! That poor man-you damaged his ego for life. Each time he touched me, he had a sneezing fit." Gregori raised an eyebrow, completely unrepentant. "Technically,he did not lay a hand on you.He sneezed before he could get that close.

there is no use in lamenting what might have been, for we are here and there is a life after horror. There is tragedy behind, and it trails us and walks alongside us, but still there is the great mystery of life after.

Luckily, I lived only six minutes south of the station. From my house, Stubby’s was a short ten-minute drive north via Montgomery then a quick right on West Congress. I hadn’t spoken with Liza for a few days, but I’d sent a text

Gregori stood his ground, his mind carefully blank. This was his life. His reason for existing. He was the dark justice necessary for his people to survive, to continue their existence in secrecy.He stood there in the night, utterly, completely alone. Gregori, I am with you always. You are never alone.Look for me in your heart, in your mind, in your very soul. Look at your hero now.See what I really am. I kill without thought. Without effort. Without remorse.Without mercy. I am the monster you named me, and I am without equal.Someday I will pay the ultimate price. Savannah's soft laughter whispered over his skin. It was a gentle, cleansing breeze drifting through his mind. And who is stronger than my lifemate? No one can kill you? You think death is the ultimate price? No, Savannah. Someday you will know what I am, and you will look at me in horror and revulsion. When that day comes, I will cease to exist.

Many of the women I met there (Yale) had come from the most privileged of circumstances, yet they often referred to themselves as "oppressed." I found it hard to take their "oppression" seriously, since I'd spent the first part of my life living among black women who cooked and kept house for the middle and upper class whites of Savannah. They never talked about being oppressed. What right, then, did the elite white women of Yale have to complain about their lot?

No way was she forcing Reece into a mating he didn't want. Wolves mated for life and it wouldn't be fair to either of them. And she wasn't ashamed to admit that she wanted love and a lasting partnership. She refused to settle for less.

Laughing,Savannah jumped from her precarious perch on the boulder into the safety of Gregori's arms. He caught her,crushing her against his chest, sheer elation, exhilaration, rushing through his veins. To feel again was beyond his comprehension, to feel like this, to have such joy in him, was totally unbelievable. He whispered to her in the ancient language, words of love and commitment that he could not find a way to express in any other language. She was more than she could ever know to him; she was his life,the very air he breathed. You worry about the most ridiculous things, he said gruffly, burying his face for just a moment against her neck,inhaling her scent. "Do I?" she asked aloud,her eyes dancing at him. "You're the one always concerned I'm going to do something wild." "You do wild things," he answered complacently. "I never know what you are going to do next. It is a good thing I reside in your mind, ma petite, or I would have to be locked up in the nearest asylum." Her lips brushed his chin, feathered along his jaw, then nibbled enticingly at the edge of his mouth. "I think you should be locked up.You're postively lethal to women." "Not to women,only to you.

I was only trying to get you to come here. You know,classic honeymoon. Sweet young wife teaches wizened old grouch how to have fun.That sort of thing." "Wizened old grouch?" he echoed in astonishment. "The old part I can accept, even the grouch.But I am definitely not wizened." In punishment he tugged her hair. "Ow!" She swung around and glared indignantly at him. "Wizened sort of seemed to fit.You know, wizard, wizened." Gregori crushed her hair to his face to hide the sudden emotion overwhelming him. The fragrance of flowers and fresh air surrounded him.So this was what he had sought all those long centuries. Fun. Belonging.Someone with whom to share laughter and teasing and to make even the difficult moments in life beautiful.She was so much a part of him, he couldn't return to a barren existence again.He would never choose to stay in the world without her. "Do you think I am too old, Savannah?" he asked softly,taking strands of her hair into his mouth. So soft.So much like silk but even better. "Not old,Gregori," she corrected gently. "Just old-fashioned. You have a tendency to believe women should always do as they're told." He found himself laughing. "Not that you do.

He doesn't even need words from us. Just a sigh, a tear, or a whimper. What an amazing resource we have in a God who already understands our whole history, our intricate emotional fabric, our every inner thought. We don't have to explain anything.

There was a gaping hole in his chest without her. The three weeks he’d spent with her had been the best of his life. She was like this bright, shining star that had been ripped away from him. He was territorial as hell and he wasn’t letting her go.

I would trust you with my life. I'm betting that something evil would appear pleasing but feel foul." Gregori's glittering silver eyes settled on his face, a glimmer of warmth in them, a hint of humor. "You are already trusting me with your life." Savannah leaned into Gregori. "I'm so proud of you. You're getting this humor thing down." She looked across the table at Gary, laughter dancing in her enormous blue eyes. "He has a little trouble with the concept of humor." Gary found himself laughing with her. "I can believe that." "Watch it,kid. There is no need to be disrespectful. Do not make the mistake of believing you can get away with it the way this one does." Gregori tugged at Savannah's long ebony hair. It hung to her waist, a fall of blue-black silk that moved with a life of its own, that tempted, invited men to touch it. "So,what are you going to do about me?" Gary ventured painfully. Savannah resisted the urge to touch him sympathetically. She was naturally demonstrative, naturally affectionate. When someone was upset, she needed to make things better.Gregori inhibited her normal tendency to comfort. I cannot change what I am, ma petite,he whispered softly in her mind, a slow,soothing black-velvet drawl. His voice wrapped her up and touched her with tenderness. I can only promise to keep you safe and to try to make you as happy as I can to make up for my deficiencies. I didn't say you had deficiencies, she returned softly, her voice a caress, fingers trailing over the back of his neck, down the muscles of his back. Need slammed into him, low and wicked. His skin crawled with fire. His silver eyes slid slowly, possessively over her, touching her body with tongues of flame. Touching. Caressing. His urgent need exploded in him like a volcano. In his head a dull roar began. Abruptly he wished Gary gone. The cafe gone. The world gone.He wasn't altogether certain he could wait until he was home with her. The riverbank as suddenly looking very inviting.

It made perfect sense to me. My whole life I'd gone along with somebody else's plans. Not wanting to rock the boat and put myself first. After all, most of the time I didn't know what my own plans were. But the need for my own dream was screaming to get out of me.

And do not try to be so brave. I am your lifemate.You cannot hide from me something as powerful as fear." "Trepidation," she corrected, nibbling at the pad of his thumb. "Is there a difference?" His pale eyes had warmed to molten mercury. Just that fast, her body ent liquid in answer. "You know very well there is." She laughed again, and the sound traveled down from his heart to pool in his groin, a heavy,familiar ache. "Slight, perhaps, but very important." "I will try to make you happy, Savannah," he promised gravely. Her fingers went up to brush at the thick mane of hair falling around his face. "You are my lifemate, Gregori. I have no doubt you will make me happy." He had to look away,out the window into the night. She was so good, with so much beauty in her, while he was so dark, his goodness drained into the ground with the blood of all the lives he had taken while he waited for her. But now,faced with the reality of her, Gregori could not bear her to witness the blackness within him, the hideous stain across his soul. For beyond his killing and law-breaking, he had committed the gravest crime of all. And he deserved the ultimate penalty, the forfeit of his life. He had deliberately tempered with nature.He knew he was powerful enough, knew his knowledge exeeded the boundaries of Carpathian law. He had taken Savannah's free will, manipulated the chemistry between them so that she would believe he was her true lifemate. And so she was with him-less than a quarter of a century of innocence pitted against his thousand years of hard study.Perhaps that was his punishment, he mused-being sentenced to an eternity of knowing Savannah could never really love him, never really accept his black soul.That she would be ever near yet so far away. If she ever found out the extent of his manipulation, she would despise him. Yet he could never,ever, allow her to leave him. Not if mortals and immortals alike were to be safe. His jaw hardened, and he stared out the window, turning slightly away from her. His mind firmly left hers, not wanting to alert her to the grave crime he had committed.He could bear torture and centuries of isolation, he could bear his own great sins, but he could not endure her loathing him. Unconsciously, he took her hand in his and tightened his grip until it threatened to crush her fragile bones. Savannah glanced at him, let out a breath slowly to keep from wincing, and kept her hand passively in his.He thought his mind closed to her.Didn't believe she was his true lifemate. He truly believed he had manipulated the outcome of their joining unfairly and that somewhere another Carpathian male with the chemistry to match hers might be waiting.Though he had offered her free access to his mind, had himself given her the power,to meld her mind with his,both as her wolf and as her healer before she was born,he likely didn't think a woman,a fledging, and one who was not his true lifemate, could possibly have the skill to read his innermost secrets.But Savannah could. And completing the ancient ritual of lifemates had only strengthened the bond.

Gregori brought Savannah's hand to the warmth of his mouth,his breath heating the pulse beating in her wrist. The night is especially beautiful, mon petit amour.Your hero saved the girl, walks among humans, and converses with a fool.That alone should bring a smile to your face.Do not weep for what we cannot change.We will make certain that this human with us comes to no harm. Are you my hero,then? There were tears in her voice, in her mind, like an iridescent prism. She needed him, his comfort,his support under her terrible weight of guilt and love and loss. Always,for all eternity, he answered instantly,without hesitation, his eyes hot mercury. He tipped her chin up so that she met the brilliance of his silver gaze.Always, mon amour.His molten gaze trapped her blue one and held her enthralled. Your heart grows lighter.The burden of your sorrow becomes my own. He held her gaze captive for a few moments to ensure that she was free of the heaviness crushing her. Savannah blinked and moved a little away from him, wondering what she had been thinking of.What had they been talking about? "Gary." Gregori drawled the name slowly and sat back in his chair,totally relaxed. He looked like a sprawling tiger,dangerous and untamed. "Tell us about yourself." "I work a lot.I'm not married. I'm really not much of a people person. I'm basically a nerd." Gregori shifted, a subtle movement of muscles suggesting great power. "I am not familiar with this term." "Yeah,well,you wouldn't be," Gary said. "It means I have lots of brains and no brawn.I don't do the athlete thing. I'm into computers and chess and things requiring intellect. Women find me skinny,wimpy,and boring. Not something they would you." There was no bitterness in his voice,just a quiet acceptance of himself,his life. Gregori's white teeth flashed. "There is only one woman who matters to me, Gary, and she finds me difficult to live with.I cannot imagine why,can you?" "Maybe because you're jealous, possessive, concerned with every single detail of her life?" Gary plainly took the question literally, offering up his observations without judgement. "You're probably domineering,too. I can see that. Yeah.It might be tough." Savannah burst out laughing, the sound musical, rivaling the street musicians. People within hearing turned their heads and held their breath, hoping for more. "Very astute, Gary.Very, very astute. I bet you have an anormous IQ." Gregori stirred again, the movement a ripple of power,of danger. He was suddenly leaning into Gary. "You think you are intelligent? Baiting the wild animal is not too smart.

Do not, cherie, ever think you cannot measure up to my expectations." "You might get tired teaching me things." His hand spanned the slim column of her throat so that her pulse was beating into the center of his palm. "Never. It will never happen. And I have much to learn from you.There has been no laughter in my life.You have brought that to me.There are many things you have brought to my life-feelings and emotions I could never experience without you." He bent to brush her mouth with his. "Can you not feel that I speak the truth?" Savannah closed her eyes as his mouth took possession of hers, as his mind merged firmly with hers. There was such an intimacy in sharing his thoughts and feelings. Gregori was intense in his hunger and need. There were no doubts in him, no hesitation. He knew they would always be together; he would accept nothing else.If something ever changed that,he would choose to follow her into the dawn. Gregori released her slowly, almost reluctantly. She stood very still, looking up at him, her blue eyes studying his face. "We can do this Savannah," he encouraged her softly. "Do not get frightened and try to run from your fate. Stay with me and fight." A small smile touched her mouth. "Fate. Interesting word to use. You make it sound like I've been sentenced to prison." She took a deep breath and made herself relax. "You're bad, but not quite that bad," she teased him. His white teeth gleamed, his predator's smile. "I am very bad, ma petite. Do not forget that if you wish to be safe." She shrugged casually, but her heart leapt in response. "Safety is not a concept I strictly adhere to," she ansered, her chin up. "That is a double-edged sword for me." Savannah burst out laughing, her natural sense of humor bubbling up. "You bet it is. I don't intend to make things easy for you. You've had your way for far too long.

Life is dangerous,Gary," Gregori said softly. "You are Rambo, remember?" Savannah's laughter rang out, rivaling the jazz quartet playing on the corner. Heads turned to listen to he, then to watch her, stealing away the attention of the audience gathered in a loose semi-circle around the quartet. She moved in the human world, completely comfortable in it,a part of it. Gregori had walked unseen, and that was how he preferred it.She was dragging him into her world. He could hardly believe he was walking down a crowded street with a mortal wwith half the block staring openly at them. "I didn't know you knew who Rambo was," Savannah said, trying not to giggle. She couldn't imagine Gregori in a theater watching a Rambo movie. "You saw a Rambo flick?" Gary was incredulous. Gregori made a sound somewhere between contempt and derision. "I read Gary's memories on the subject. Interesting. Silly,but interesting." He glanced at Gary. "This is your hero?" Gary's grin was as michievous as Savannah's. "Until I met you, Gregori." Gregori growled, a low rumble of menace. His two companions just laughed disrespectfully, not in the least intimidated. "I'll bet he's a secret Rambo fan," Savannah whispered confidentially. Gary nodded. "He probably sneaks into movie theaters for every old showing.

The Haight was awash in Christian charity. These kids, simultaneously jubilant and introspective, were practicing what their elders preached. The Haight was the New Testament: animated, activated, brought to life in living color. The naïveté was so thick you could cut it with a Popsicle stick -- but so apparently was Christ’s. Years later, on a wild African savannah a hundred miles from even the crudest settlement, a pride of lions on one horizon, a solitary giraffe on another, I said to myself, “This is the way the world was meant to be and everything else is a mistake.” I’d thought the exact same thing in San Francisco during the Summer of Love.

He’d given up waiting for her within a few years, and decades later forgot the witch’s prophecy altogether. But the second the trespasser with auburn hair and violet eyes looked up at him, the old woman’s voice echoed through his mind, like she’d been lurking in the shadows as the centuries passed, just waiting. A woman with violet eyes will signal the beginning and ending of your life.

Gregori wanted her. More than that, he needed her. That particular revelation changed everything. It put control back in her hands, gave her back her life. She squared her shoulders. She was no longer a child running from a nameless fear. She was his lifemate, chosen by God to walk with a man of power, of honor. A sensual, strong male who needed her more than anyone else on earth ever could.

And the dog episode?" He tried for innocence, but his laughter was echoing in her mind. "What do you mean?" "You know very well what I mean," she insisted. "When Dragon walked me home." "Ah,yes,I seem to recall now. The big bad wolf decked out in chains and spikes, afraid of a little dog." "Little? A hundred-and-twenty-pound Rottweiler mix? Foaming at the mouth. Roaring.Charging him!" "He ran like a rabbit." Gregori's soft, caressing voice echoed his satisfaction. He had taken great pleasure in running that particular jackass off.How dare the man try to lay a hand on Savannah? "No wonder I couldn't touch the dog's mind and call him off. You rotten scoundrel." "After Dragon left you,I chased him for two blocks, and he went up a tree. I kept him there for several hours, just to make a point.He looked like a rooster with his orange comb." She laughed in spite of her desire not to. "He never came near me again." "Of course not.It was unacceptable," he said complacently,with complete satisfaction, the warmth of his breath heating her blood. His mouth touched, skimmed, moved across her nipple, branding her with his heat, with flame, before finding the underside of her breast. Savannah closed her eyes against a need so intense that she shook with it. How could she want something that hurt so terribly? No pain,ma petite,only pleasure. His tongue created an aching void in her. I swear it on my life. His mouth was hot velvet closing over her breast. Fire danced over her skin, invading her body, melted her insides so that she was liquid heat, pulsing with need for him, only for him.

As we have so often seen, the task of ego consciousness in the second half of life is to step out of the way and embrace a larger spiritual agenda. Contrary to the fantasy of the youthful ego, this larger life will quite often be found in the savannahs of suffering—not on the lofty peaks of New Age transcendence, or in fundamentalism’s fearful flight from complexity, but down in what Yeats called “the fury and mire of human veins.” Only in this way do we grow, and do we find, amid suffering and defeat, the possibility of meaning so rich we can scarcely bear it. For this embrace of suffering, this acceptance of paradox, we deserve to be valued. As Jung put it so aptly, “This apparently unendurable conflict is proof of the rightness of your life. A life without inner contradiction is only half a life, or else a life in the Beyond which is destined only for angels. But God loves human beings more than the angels.

And you might also remember you are the greatest healer among us. That is unchallenged by anyone." "I am the greatest killer, also unchallenged." He tried to give her truth again. She touched his hard mouth. "I will hunt with you then,lifemate." His heart slammed against his ribs. Her smile was mysterious, scretive, and so beautiful,it broke his heart. "What is behind this smile,bebe." His hand caught and spanned her throat, his thumb brushing her lips in a gentle caress. "What do you know that I do not?" His mind slipped into hers, a sensuous thrust, the ultimate intimacy, not unlike the way his tongue sometimes dueled with her-or his body took possession of hers. She was familiar with his touch in her mind. She knew he tried to keep its invasiveness to a minimum. He allowed her to set the bounderies and never pushed beyond any barrier she erected, even though he could do so easily. Both of them needed the intimate union of their minds merging, Savannah as much as Gregori. And her newfound knowledge of him was secure behind a miniature barricade she had hastily erected. Wide-eyed and innocent, she looked at him. His thumb pressed into her lower lip, half mesmerized by the satin perfection of it. "You will never hunt vampires, ma cherie, not ever.And if I were ever to catch you attempting such a thing,there would be hell to pay." She didn't look scared. Rather, amusement crept into the deep blue of her eyes. "Surely you aren't threatening me,Dark One, bogey man of the Carpathians." She laughed softly, a sound that feathered down his spine and somehow took away the sting of that centuries-old designation. "Stop looking so serious, Gregori-you haven't lost your reputation entirely. Everyone else is still terrified of the big bad wolf." His eyebrows shot up. She was teasing him. About his dark reputation, of all things. Her gaze was clear and sparkling, hinting at mischeif. Savannah wasn't railing against her fate, of being tied to him, a monster. She was too filled with life and laughter, with joy. He felt it in her mind, in her heart, in her very soul. He wished it could somehow rub off on him,make him a more compatible lifemate for her. "You are the only one who needs to worry about the big bad wolf, mon amour," he threatened with mock gravity. She leaned over to stare up into his eyes, a smile curving her soft mouth. "You cracked a joke, Gregori. We're making progress.Why,we're practically friends." "Practically?" he echoed gently. "Getting there fast," she told him firmly with her chin up,daring him to contradict her. "Can one be friends with a monster?" He said casually, as if he were simply musing out loud,but there was a shadow in his silver eyes. "I was being childish, Gregori, when I made such an accusation," she said softly, her eyes meeting his squarely.

Like kind learning environments, a kind world is based on repeating patterns. “It’s perfectly fine,” she said, “if you stay in the same village or the same savannah all your life.” The current world is not so kind; it requires thinking that cannot fall back on previous experience. Like math students, we need to be able to pick a strategy for problems we have never seen before. “In the life we lead today,” Gentner told me, “we need to be reminded of things that are only abstractly or relationally similar. And the more creative you want to be, the more important that is.

Are you bothered because he says he could see us together? Or is there something else?” Sam's voice had grown quieter with that last question. Devin looked up from the board to see something he'd never thought he'd see from Sam. An expression that, on anyone else, would've been more than curious. It was open, vulnerable. A naked longing that disappeared as soon as Devin was sure he knew what it was, to be replaced by Sam pressing his lips together and looking down at the board again. Wow. Okay. That made this conversation a hell of a lot more interesting. Maybe Sam had spent so much time analyzing Devin because he wanted to know if he had a chance. Devin wasn't sure how he felt about that. “I'm not in love with the idea that you guys have talked about me,” Devin said. “It's strange.” “I'm sorry our conversation made you feel that way,” Sam said. “I honestly wouldn't have said anything if you didn't want to know.” “I know, I asked for it,” Devin responded. “About...us.” Dev looked up in time to see Sam's expression change before the mask slid back into place. “You don't think it's weird?” Sam's lips trembled as he fought down a smile. “I think,” he began, reaching across the table, “life is full of possibilities.” He touched the back of Devin's hand with the tips of his fingers, gently stroking the skin. “If this isn't one you want to take advantage of, then you shouldn't feel pressured to do so.” It wasn't Devin's imagination that the temperature in the room had risen. It was one thing when Sam was getting into his head on a purely academic level. It was another thing when Sam looked at him from beneath thick lashes as if he could unravel Devin from the inside out if given half the chance. And he so wanted that chance. Holy hell. The little nerd was trying to seduce him.

Your people understand the forest: how the animals behave, where to find them, and so on. I want something similar—but instead of the forest as a whole, I want to understand dragons. They are not only here, you know; there are dragons in the savannah—” Mekeesawa nodded. “Well, there are more than that, all over the world. They live in the mountains and on the plains and maybe even in the ocean. I want to know them as you know the creatures of this forest.” “But why?” Mekeesawa asked. His eyes were still merry with laughter, but his question was serious. “You don’t live in all those places.” With the amount of time I have spent traveling in my life, one might make the argument that I do live in all those places, if only temporarily. But Mekeesawa’s point was a good one, and not easily dismissed. The Moulish understood the creatures of the Green Hell because their survival depended on it; my survival did not depend on my traveling the globe to find dragons. (Indeed, it has on more than one occasion nearly been detrimental to my life expectancy.) How could I answer him? Thinking back on the matter now, it is possible my only true answer to that question is now in its second volume, with more to come. These memoirs are not only an accounting of my life; they are an accounting *for* it.

What was your family life like, Savannah?" I asked, pretending I was conducting an interview. "Hiroshima," she whispered. "And what has life been like since you left the warm, abiding bosom of your nurturing, close-knit family?" "Nagasaki," she said, a bitter smile on her face. "You're a poet, Savannah," I said, watching her. "Compare your family to a ship." "The Titanic." "Name the poem, Savannah, you wrote in honor of your family." "'The History of Auschwitz.'" And we both laughed. "Now, here's the important question," I said, leaning down and whispering softly in her ear. "Whom do you love more than anyone in the world?" Savannah's head lifted up from the pillow and her blue eyes blazed with conviction as she said between cracked, pale lips, "I love my brother, Tom Wingo. My Twin.

What’re you thinking about?” she asked, arching back against him and making shivers run down his spine. “You,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her neck. “How much better my life is with you in it.” A long moment passed when they simply lay together in the quiet of her bedroom, skin to skin, his heart pumping against her back and his lips resting lazily on her shoulder. “I’m falling in love with you too,” she finally said quietly with her back to him. Her words ricocheted in his brain like too much awesome to bear. He didn’t expect them, didn’t anticipate them, and his heart—which had quietly longed for the words for days—didn’t know how to believe it was possible that a creature as lovely as Savannah could fall for a creature as broken as him. “Say it again,” he whispered, closing his burning eyes so that all that existed was her voice in his ears. She rolled back, and he moved slightly so that she could lie on her back beside him. He opened his eyes to look at her, and with her messy hair and fat lip, she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “I’m falling in love with you, Asher.” Without breaking eye contact with her, he reached out to push her hair gently off her forehead. “You take my breath away.

Gregori approached the tiny being cautiously. The extent of the trauma was enormous. The baby was fading as blood gushed from its mother’s body. He could feel its willingness to slide away from the pain and outrage of the assault. He could only hope Shea would stop the bleeding quickly, as he had to concentrate on the child. She was so tiny, almost nonexistent, yet he could feel her pain and her puzzlement. She knew fear before she was born, knew pain, and now held forever the knowledge that life was not safe, even here in her mother’s womb. Gregori murmured softly, reassuringly, to her. He had bathed her in his light once before, and she recognized him now, moved toward him, seeking comfort. Very carefully he attended to the wound in the artery that supplied her with nourishment. Very soon he would give her his own blood, sealing her fate, binding her ever closer to him. There were several tears in the placenta, which he meticulously sealed. She was afraid as his light floated closer, so he provided waves of reassurance and warmth. There was a laceration in her right thigh. It hurt, and blood was seeping into the fluid surrounding her. With the lightest of touches he closed the wound, his touch lingering to calm her. His chant, the low pitch of his voice, echoed in her heart, in her mind, invading her soul. Gregori talked to her as he worked, the purity of his tone beguiling her, soothing her, so that she stayed with Raven rather than simply letting go, fading away with the steady trickle of blood. Gregori could feel the strength in her, the determination. Without a doubt, she was Mikhail and Raven’s daughter. If she chose to go, she would do so, but if she chose to stay, she would fight with every breath left in her body. Gregori made certain she wanted to fight. He whispered to her in his most beguiling voice, promised a fascinating future, lured her with the secrets and beauty of the universe awaiting her. He promised her she would never be left alone; he would be there to guide her, to protect her, to see to her happiness.

Will she be all right?” Gary asked fearfully. In spite of himself, he had checked her pulse several times. “She must be all right,” Gregori said very softly. The voice was like velvet, but there was something in it that sent a shiver of apprehension through Gary. If anything happened to Savannah, Gary realized that no one, nothing in the world, would ever be safe again from the Carpathian. He hadn’t considered that before, and he had no idea where the knowledge came from, but he knew it absolutely. He crawled from the cramped space and picked his way a small distance from the cave. The night noises bothered him, were strange and a bit daunting. Gregori gathered Savannah tenderly into his arms. Come to me, my life and breath. Wake and be with me. He gave the command, and even as he felt her heart flutter, he pressed her mouth to his throat. Feed, ma petite. Feed and replenish what you selflessly gave to me. Savannah turned her head, her first breath a sigh of warmth against his throat. She nuzzled closer, drowsy and weak from lack of blood. Her tongue tasted his skin, caressed his pulse. Gregori’s body tightened alarmingly as her teeth sent white-hot pleasure slicing through him. Slowly her skin warmed, went from ashen to a healthy glow. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she held him close, her body fitting into his, a restless ache of need and hunger. Savannah closed the pinpricks on her lifemate’s neck, feathered kisses up his throat to his jaw, then found the corner of his mouth. Gregori caught her head and held her still, his mouth dominating, taking hers with a need as elemental as the wind. “I thought I lost you,” she whispered into his heart, his soul. “I thought I lost you.” “Are you always going to be pulling me out of trouble?” he asked, some strong, unnamed emotion choking him, blocking his throat. A small smile tugged at her soft mouth. “Back you up, you mean.” He groaned at her terminology. “Je t’ àime, Savannah. More than I can ever express in words of any language.” His arms held her tight, sheltering her against his heart. She was his world, would always be his world. She was his laughter, his light. She showed him how to slip easily between both worlds. She gave him faith in humans that had never been there before.

When he lifted his head, Savannah nearly pulled him back to her. He watched her face, her eyes cloudy with desire, her lips so beautiful, bereft of his. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Savannah? There is such beauty in your soul, I can see it shining in your eyes.” She touched his face, her palm molding his strong jaw. Why couldn’t she resist his hungry eyes? “I think you’re casting a spell over me. I can’t remember what we were talking about.” Gregori smiled. “Kissing.” His teeth nibbled gently at her chin. “Specifically, your wanting to kiss that orange-bearded imbecile.” “I wanted to kiss every one of them,” she lied indignantly. “No, you did not. You were hoping that silly fop would wipe my taste from your mouth for all eternity.” His hand stroked back the fall of hair around her face. He feathered kisses along the delicate line of her jaw. “It would not have worked, you know. As I recall, he seemed to have a problem getting close to you.” Her eyes smoldered dangerously. “Did you have anything to do with his allergies?” She had wanted someone, anyone, to wipe Gregori’s taste from her mouth, her soul. He raised his voice an octave. “Oh, Savannah, I just have to taste your lips,” he mimicked. Then he went into a sneezing fit. “You haven’t ridden until you’ve ridden on a Harley, baby.” He sneezed, coughed, and gagged in perfect imitation. Savannah punched his arm, forgetting for a moment her bruised fist. When it hurt, she yelped and glared accusingly at him. “It was you doing all that to him! The poor man— you damaged his ego for life. Each time he touched me, he had a sneezing fit.” Gregori raised an eyebrow, completely unrepentant. “Technically, he did not lay a hand on you. He sneezed before he could get that close.” She laid her head back on the pillow, her ebony hair curling around his arm, then her arm, weaving them together. His lips found her throat, then moved lower and found the spot over her breast that burned with need, with invitation. Savannah caught his head firmly in her hands and lifted him determinedly away from her before her treacherous body succumbed completely to his magic. “And the dog episode?” He tried for innocence, but his laughter was echoing in her mind. “What do you mean?” “You know very well what I mean,” she insisted. “When Dragon walked me home.” “Ah, yes, I seem to recall now. The big bad wolf decked out in chains and spikes, afraid of a little dog.” “Little? A hundred-and-twenty-pound Rottweiler mix? Foaming at the mouth. Roaring. Charging him!” “He ran like a rabbit.” Gregori’s soft, caressing voice echoed his satisfaction. He had taken great pleasure in running that particular jackass off. How dare the man try to lay a hand on Savannah? “No wonder I couldn’t touch the dog’s mind and call him off. You rotten scoundrel.” “After Dragon left you, I chased him for two blocks, and he went up a tree. I kept him there for several hours, just to make a point. He looked like a rooster with his orange comb.” She laughed in spite of her desire not to. “He never came near me again.” “Of course not. It was unacceptable,” he said complacently, with complete satisfaction, the warmth of his breath heating her blood.

Her enormous eyes were staring straight into his silver ones. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t let go of her hand. He couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. He was lost in those blue-violet eyes, somewhere in their mysterious, haunting, sexy depths. What was it he had decided? Decreed? He was not going to allow her anywhere near Peter’s funeral. Why was his resolve fading away to nothing? He had reasons, good reasons. He was certain of it. Yet now, drowning in her huge eyes, his thoughts on the length of her lashes, the curve of her cheek, the feel of her skin, he couldn’t think of denying her. After all, she hadn’t tried to defy him; she didn’t know he had made the decision to keep her away from Peter’s funeral. She was including him in the plans, as if they were a unit, a team. She was asking his advice. Would it be so terrible to please her over this? It was important to her. He blinked to keep from falling into her gaze and found himself staring at the perfection of her mouth. The way her lips parted so expectantly. The way the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her full lower lip. Almost a caress. He groaned. An invitation. He braced himself to keep from leaning over and tracing the exact path with his own tongue. He was being tortured. Tormented. Her perfect lips formed a slight frown. He wanted to kiss it right off her mouth. “What is it, Gregori?” She reached up to touch his lips with her fingertip. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He caught her wrist and clamped it against his pumping heart. “Savannah,” he whispered. An ache. It came out that way. An ache. He knew it. She knew it. God, he wanted her with every cell in his body. Untamed. Wild. Crazy. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she would never get him out. Her hand trembled in answer, a slight movement rather like the flutter of butterfly wings. He felt it all the way through his body. “It is all right, mon amour,” he said softly. “I am not asking for anything.” “I know you’re not. I’m not denying you anything. I know we need to have time to become friends, but I’m not going to deny what I feel already. When you’re close to me, my body temperature jumps about a thousand degrees.” Her blue eyes were dark and beckoning, steady on his. He touched her mind very gently, almost tenderly, slipped past her guard and knew what courage it took for her to make the admission. She was nervous, even afraid, but willing to meet him halfway. The realization nearly brought him to his knees. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and the silver eyes heated to molten mercury, but his face was as impassive as ever. “I think you are a witch, Savannah, casting a spell over me.” His hand cupped her face, his thumb sliding over her delicate cheekbone. She moved closer, and he felt her need for comfort, for reassurance. Her arms slid tentatively around his waist. Her head rested on his sternum. Gregori held her tightly, simply held her, waiting for her trembling to cease. Waiting for the warmth of his body to seep into hers. Gregori’s hand came up to stroke the thick length of silken, ebony hair, taking pleasure in the simple act. It brought a measure of peace to both of them. He would never have believed what a small thing like holding a woman could do to a man. She was turning his heart inside out; unfamiliar emotions surged wildly through him and wreaked havoc with his well-ordered life. In his arms, next to his hard strength, she felt fragile, delicate, like an exotic flower that could be easily broken. “Do not worry about Peter, ma petite,” he whispered into the silken strands of her hair. “We will see to his resting place tomorrow.” “Thank you, Gregori,” Savannah said. “It matters a lot to me.” He lifted her easily into his arms. “I know. It would be simpler if I did not. Come to my bed, chérie, where you belong.

other than

been a long Thursday

already been a long Thursday morning,

people

We’ll eat, play board games, and watch movies until the kids pass out. They can all sleep over since tomorrow is Sunday and there’s no reason to get up early.” Devon pointed. “And if Mitch ever finishes that

fun

detective

The age was right, and her name did come up. So far, so good. The address that popped up was on East Henry. I looked it up on Street

pulled

That’s

Anxiety is our fundamental state for well-founded reasons: because we are intensely vulnerable physical beings, a complicated network of fragile organs all biding their time before eventually letting us down catastrophically at a moment of their own choosing; because we have insufficient information upon which to make most major life decisions; because we can imagine so much more than we have and live in ambitious mediatized societies where envy and restlessness are a constant; because we are the descendants of the great worriers of the species, the others having been trampled and torn apart by wild animals; because we still carry in our bones—into the calm of the suburbs—the terrors of the savannah; because the trajectories of our careers and of our finances are plotted within the tough-minded, competitive, destructive, random workings of an uncontained economic engine; because we rely for our self-esteem and sense of comfort on the love of people we cannot control and whose needs and hopes will never align seamlessly with our own.

Savannah!” I yelled as I rushed over to her to give her a hug.

Yeah, Otis, use your brain,” said Savannah.

minutes,

It had already been a long Thursday morning, but we’d finally made it to the lunch hour. Our three interrogations with gangster wannabes and their smart-mouthed public defenders had been tiring, and we’d only just begun.

It had already been a long Thursday morning, but we’d finally made it to the lunch hour. Our three interrogations with gangster wannabes and their smart-mouthed public defenders had been tiring, and we’d only just begun. Last night during a two-car drive-by shooting, four young men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two were gunned down on the sidewalk in front of their apartment building. They were needless deaths but only in the

I had this recurring dream, where I meet the love of my life, and we spend eternity together. Every day together we would fall deeper and deeper in love. Problem is, as many times as I’ve dreamed of her, she never had a face.” He pauses to collect himself. “Until one night, when I opened a file and found her. I worked like hell to get you, and I’ll work like hell to keep you. I love you and I always will, Savannah.