Scarred Emily Mcintire Quotes

You could burn down the entire kingdom until it’s nothing but charred rubble, and I would crawl over the embers with glee, so long as I could worship at your feet.

If something happens, know that I will find you in every lifetime, Sara Beatreaux. You are mine, and not even death can keep you from me.

The truth is, I am yours. Wholly. Inexplicably. Painfully. Unconditionally.” He moves my hand until the dagger presses against his throat. “And if you need to sacrifice my soul so you’re able to live with yours, then do it.

No, little doe, not here. They don’t get your tears.

Meet me where you kiss the stars.

I’m going to kiss you now,” I tell her. “Why?” she whispers. “Because, ma petite menteuse, the thought of not kissing you makes me want to die.

In a world of people who don’t see me, sometimes, it feels as if he’s the only one who does.

I’m saying you could drive a man insane. Make him raze the world just to see you smile.

I’d like to draw you,” I rephrase, moving in closer, my fingers dancing across her skin. “Just like this, with your face kissing the stars... I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I am nothing, if I’m not yours.

Do you trust me, little doe?” he asks. My heart stalls. “No.” He smirks. “Good.

Water is the most powerful element in the world. Calm when needed and ferocious when tried.

You thirst for power?” he rasps, his palm ghosting across my collarbone before wrapping around my throat. “I can fill you with it until you scream.

It isn’t fair for you to do this to me. Why did it have to be you?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “You think I wished for you?” His grip tightens against my jaw. “I would scourge the earth if I thought it would erase you from my brain.

Loyalty. One word. Three syllables. Seven letters. Zero meaning.

She’s strong-willed. She’s fire. She’s the devil, parading as a snake, convincing people to eat the apple. Ma petite menteuse… My little liar.

I would light myself on fire and revel in the burn if I knew it would please him.

I hate her for making me feel like this; for making me covet yet another thing that my brother gets. She bewitches me, and I would rather rid her from the face of the earth than exist in a world where she tempts me but leaves me with empty arms.

I will lick, and suck, and cut any part of you I wish, as often as I wish, until you're begging me to slice you open and do it some more." My stomach flips at his words, shock mixing in with the sharp rush of desire that splices down my middle. "I want to consume you, Sara, until I feel you thrumming in my veins.

Ma petite menteuse, pretending to be so pure.

Technically, there are no stars out tonight for me to kiss." I smile as Sara's voice. "Maybe they were waiting for you to arrive.

Show me your pain, little doe. Give it to me so you don’t bear it alone,” I rasp against her mouth as I suck down her cries.

All is not lost until it is lost.

Would you like to keep pretending? I know you’re not the good girl you claim to be.

If you want to burn down hell, you must learn to play the devil’s game.

But power only lies in the hands of those who we let have it,

he stares, as though he’s diving into my soul and seeing every part, makes me feel like I could ask him for the world, and he’d tear it to pieces just to fit it in my hands.

And the stars don’t shine as brightly when you stare at them alone.

There's a difference in beliefs and blind worship. One builds a sense of self, and the other strips it away.

I’m no one’s queen. I’m just the one who will burn the crown.

True power lies in the ability to harness energy and wield it like a sword, becoming the puppeteer that masters all the strings instead of the marionette being forced to dance.

Anxiety is something that bests everyone it touches. Even me.

Being honorable only works when both sides play by the rules.

keep your friends close and your secrets even closer.

Doubt thou that the stars are fire; Doubt thou that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt that I love. ​— ​WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, HAMLET

Our lips collide, and with just one touch—one single moment—I know I’ll never let her go.

I am nothing, if I'm not yours. So do it. Kill me, Sara. Put me out of this constant purgatory of needing you without having you.

I’m going to kiss you now,” I tell her. “Why?” she whispers. “Because, ma petite menteuse, the thought of not kissing you makes me want to die.” Our lips collide, and with just one touch—one single moment—I know I’ll never let her go.

If you want a god to worship, ma petite menteuse, no need to look so far.

For the freaks. The misfits. The bullied. The loners. The insecure. The damaged. You are worthy. You are warriors.

The truth is, I am yours. Wholly. Inexplicably. Painfully. Unconditionally.

Deep wounds always leave a mark, killer. Some scar worse than others, and some don’t ever fully heal. They just scab over, muted and dulled until you prick them a certain way.

Water is the most powerful element in the world. Calm when needed and ferocious when tried. Never assume you know something’s power because of how it appears.

I’m not sure what loosens my tongue, and I don’t know if I even mean the things I say. All I know is that in this moment, it feels like I might die if I don’t say them.

Be safe, my queen,” Daria whispers to my back. My heart stutters. “I’m no one’s queen. I’m just the one who will burn the crown.

But isn’t that the case with almost everything? We spin tales and weave stories, creating a narrative that dictates how we’re perceived. Or in some cases, how others live.

We spin tales and weave stories, creating a narrative that dictates how we’re perceived. Or in some cases, how others live.

Maybe I should be offended by his words, but instead, there’s a comfort that spreads through my chest—because he’s right—I am no rose, and I like that he sees me enough to know that.

Are you calling me beautiful?” she whispers, her eyes wide as she looks my way. My tongue swipes across my lips, and I lean in, my mouth brushing the edge of her ear. “I’m saying you could drive a man insane. Make him raze the world just to see you smile.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her by my side. She is everything. And if she’s hurting, I will torture the people who caused it until they beg me to let them die.

That's the difference between me and other people. They run away from bad things, and I become them.

made me queen of the ashes.

My heart stutters. “I’m no one’s queen. I’m just the one who will burn the crown.

That’s the difference between me and other people. They run away from the bad things, and I become them.

She’s strong-willed. She’s fire.

She’s a fucking vision. The kind that should hang in galleries and be revered by the masses. The perfect type of art.

We’re the same country, yet we’re worlds apart.

If this is where death finds me, at least it will be my choice.

Well then.” I incline my head. “Long live the king.

Paint it on my skin so everyone knows who I belong to.

Please, God,” he cries. Chuckling, I grip his second finger. “I’m your god now. And I don’t hear your pleas.

It would be such a shame to lose that inquisitive mind,” I murmur. “I don’t wish to stifle it. I wish to break it apart and see what other questions I can find.

It’s an admirable trait—to be so sure of yourself in a world without answers. An enviable one.

The truth is, I am yours. Wholly. Inexplicably. Painfully. Unconditionally.” He moves my hand until the dagger presses against his throat. “And if you need to sacrifice my soul so you’re able to live with yours, then do it.” I suck in a shaky breath, hot tears cascading down my cheeks as my mind wars with my heart, confusion muddling up my thoughts until my vision blurs and I can’t see straight.

My brother asked if I was a man of faith. I’m a man of many things, but faith is something that is best suited when it’s placed within yourself instead of seeking for it in other people. Other people disappoint.

You could burn down the entire kingdom until it’s nothing but charred rubble, and I would crawl over the embers with glee, so long as I could worship at your feet.” My insides quake from the magnitude of his words.

I wonder how two places within the same country can be so vastly different, yet coexist within the same borders. I suppose it’s because borders are man-made, and mother nature doesn’t confine herself to the rules of man. If only we all could be so lucky.

No one else has treated me the way she does—with anger brimming so potently that it tries to bleed through their gaze and strike me down. It makes me want to shove my cock down her throat and see if she’d try to bite it off, just so I could punish her for using teeth. So I’ll go find my little doe. If only to get off on her hate before I toss her to her king.

Mmm,” I hum. “Did you plead for him like this?” I whisper in her ear, my free hand grasping her throat. My eyes glance at the royal guards lining the entrance gates and the bystanders gathering around them. A few people’s gazes skim over us but just as quickly leave. They all know better than to interfere. “Do not make the mistake of confusing me with my brother,” I continue, my fingers flexing in her strands. “And don’t forget your place again, or I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you.” I release her, pushing her head until she collapses onto the ground, her hands reaching out to catch her fall. “And unlike him, I won’t care how much you beg.

You could burn down the entire kingdom until it's nothing, but charred rubble and I would crawl over the embers with glee as long as I could worship at your feet.

sitting in a room full of people whose scars remind me I’m still bleeding.

I am

I am nothing, if I'm not yours.

Xander,

He’s dressed down, dark pants with suspenders hanging off his waist, and a light tunic rolled up to his elbows, the black ink that’s etched into his skin on full display. I swallow around the sudden dryness in my mouth. I’ve never seen a tattoo in person, but he’s covered. Intricate designs weave their way from his forearms and disappear beneath the fabric of his clothes. I’ve heard the whispers, even in Silva, of the scarred prince having drawings on his flesh, but I had thought they were

Doubt thou that the stars are fire; Doubt thou that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt that I love.

you want a god to worship, ma petite menteuse, no need to look so far.

When you live your life having to look over your shoulder, you learn to sense shifts in the air long before you ever see the change.

It’s an admirable trait—to be so sure of yourself in a world without answers.

For the freaks. The misfits. The bullied. The Loners. The insecure. The damaged. You are worthy. You are warriors.

Loyalty. One word. Three syllables. Seven letters. Zero meaning.

throat and into my lungs, the tension in my stomach easing. The heat warms my fingertips as it chars the small wood stick, and an image of my little doe spread out on the table, submissive and pliant while the flame licks against her skin, flashes through my mind.

faith is something that is best suited when it’s placed within yourself instead of seeking it in other people.

I’d like to draw you,” I rephrase, moving in closer, my fingers dancing across her skin. “Just like this, with your face kissing the stars… I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

But I’ve never been one with ideas of grandeur, thinking some white knight will ride in on his steed and save me like some helpless damsel in distress. There may be distress, but I’m no helpless damsel.

I’m his equal. And right now, I’m his whore.

rhyme or reason to people’s madness.

My fingers flex as I remember the way her curly strands of hair spun around my finger,

But you don’t need to have brawn to subdue and exert power. True power lies in the ability to harness energy and wield it like a sword, becoming the puppeteer who masters all the strings instead of the marionette being forced to dance.

It takes skill and precision to weave magic with your words, and it’s something I discovered at a young age I had a knack for. Even as a child, I could trick people into thinking that my ideas were theirs, so I spent years fine-tuning the craft until I was able to tell people to go to hell in a way that they enjoyed the trip.

—Ahora te voy a besar —le digo. —¿Por qué? —susurra. —Porque, ma petite menteuse, creo que moriré si no lo hago.

If you want to burn down hell, you must learn to play the devils game. - Sara Beatraeux

I don't wish death on innocent souls. But sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. - Sara Beatreaux

Micheal was the crown prince, and I was just... me. - Tristan Faasa

Tristan somehow makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. And I guess, in a way, I am. Because my heart belongs to the scarred prince, The rebel's savior. The crowned king of Gloria Terra. And he made me queen of the ashes. -Sara Beatreaux

Even in death, we'll continue to prosper. And that's enough for me.

He sighs. “My brother requests your presence. I’m simply the pony brought here to carry you back.” I laugh. “I find it hard to believe you’d ever allow yourself to be ridden like a horse.

I lean against the wall, my hand coming to rest over my heart, pressing firmly to keep it from bursting through my rib cage and exploding on the floor. She’s a fucking vision. The kind that should hang in galleries and be revered by the masses. The perfect type of art. Mine.

I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking breathe without thinking of you.

Give me a reason,” I say instead. “One good reason why I should let you live.” His eyes flare. “Because I love you.