Skye Island Quotes

He smiled sadly. "I was lost from the moment I saw you on Ovchinin Island. It took a long while for me to realize it, but it's true. I've spent my entire life scrambling to fit in and to change myself, Vika, but where I've belonged, and who I needed to be, has been right here the whole time. I love you.

That’s what nature does. It puts beauty in unexpected places,

the human body has more needs than just water and food. It needs companionship,

Vomit began to spill out of me like pea soup, splattering the road with champagne and caviar, long island iced teas, of bacon appetizers and croissants, and a perfectly grilled filet mignonette. It had gone down easy, among the kiss ups of the lawyer world, but spewed out nastily and hard, in the company of a cheater.

Roger that, Lieutenant. We're boots to the ground. You need firepower?" Walker shook his head at the man's enthusiasm. "No firepower necessary. We're using brains today, Cudahy. I know it may be a novel experience for you four, but it's a good time to start.

Not good enough. I’m going to buy up all the land around here too. Or maybe I can find an island. We’ll make a country for just the two of us.

We wouldn’t normally be touching at any point. Except that I’m attached to him like a starfish.

I was born into a family of homicidal wolves, and that makes me one, too.

Their closest relatives are gingers, bananas, and arrowroots. You don’t often see those in domestic gardens.” “They’re pretending.” “Yes,” I say, my voice gentle. Because that’s what I do. Pretend. Telling her facts that anyone could Google should have been nothing. It was nothing. I didn’t tell her anything that matters. Not that I come from a family of Canna lilies. That we’re wealthy and powerful and violent—and beautiful, which is the only reason we’re allowed in the garden with other plants.

After Sidney had given her his handkerchief and ordered further drinks, Amanda turned the conversation towards her childhood; how she wanted to run away back to the time when she was last happy, holidaying on the island of Skye, on a day with strong winds and dark skies, the barking of dogs, the bleating of sheep, the collapse of telephone wires – with no boat daring to go out to sea, and everyone stuck inside. ‘No one thought we would ever go out again, but then the dark clouds moved and everything blew over the Cuillins and the sun came through the clouds and light fell across the tops. The wind was stilled and we could go out again and I felt such happiness that the darkness had passed. I often think that if I ever go back there then the same thing will happen, that the clouds will clear and the air will still be fresh, and the dogs will stop barking, and the light on the mountains will be sharp even if it’s only for a short time. I will still have seen it. Do you understand, Sidney?’ ‘Like Noah after the flood.’ ‘We always need something to remember. A time when everything was possible. Do you think this too will pass?’ ‘Eventually. The compensation for losing happiness, for discovering that it never lasts, is that our troubles are transient too.’ ‘I don’t think that’s of much comfort to those who are in distress.’ ‘One cannot be trite about these things. But the ultimate end to suffering is death.’ ‘Then perhaps I could find the person behind all this and kill them myself?’ ‘I’ll ignore that remark, Amanda.

I expected somebody old and stodgy. Not with a jawline that I could cut my finger on. Not with what’s obviously a very muscular body tucked between office clothes.

His gaze is slow, almost lazy as it meanders down my body, taking in every curve and corner of my body. The lace sundress which had seemed optimistic this morning suddenly feels like lingerie. I’m exposed.

I take pictures to see the world. To understand it through the lens of my experiences and prejudices and dreams. To find out what’s truly out there.

That’s not normal.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you some kind of James Bond superhero?

She sees beneath the surface.

that part of me is like the bamboo shoots above ground. There’s a complex root system beneath the surface.

Are you some kind of James Bond superhero? She’s not completely wrong.

It’s easy to hide my activities under the guise of research work. Nobody asks questions when you talk about rhizomes.

Ocean-blue eyes blink up at me, still drowsy. Still relaxed. This is how she’d look after sex,

I want to ask her what she sees when she looks through the lens of her camera and why it’s more clear than just looking with those beautiful cerulean eyes.

She’s doing it again, seeing beneath a façade that no one else usually detects

but I want to tell her more. It’s a dangerous urge.

I want to tell her more. It’s a dangerous urge.

Are you some kind of James Bond superhero? Yes, actually.

I’m not sure whether this is a sign that we’re about to die or a sign that I’m about to live, more than I ever have.

I’m used to life-or-death situations. That’s the job. Kill or be killed.

Fear begs for dominance, and I can give that to her.

her features were designed by human evolution to attract me. Like open petals that beg for butterflies.

Who is she? I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care. She’s cargo on this mission. Living, breathing cargo.

Listen.

We’re going to have to work together. So let’s be kind and professional.” Just like that, I’m chastened. Chastened by this woman in a lace sundress

I want her to blush and stammer and press her delicious thighs together in an effort to hide what I’ve done to her. It’s a thought that’s neither kind nor professional.

I’m annoyed, damn it. Nothing else. I shouldn’t be turned on by Pollyanna with a camera.

Her optimism shouldn’t bother me, but it does. It reminds me that I’m jaded.

She has no protection. Not her body, not her emotions. She’s wide open to the world. Vulnerable. Exposed in a way that I knew not to be, even at a young age.

I’m not good. I’m not safe, and I never have been. I’ve been poison since the day I was born.

You can tear a plant from the soil, but the roots are still the same.

You can sit anywhere,” he says. “Alone?” I ask, in the same tone I’d use to say, In this pit of snakes?

I’m not sure I can do this without a mental breakdown, but I definitely can’t do it alone.

I know you’re the strong and silent type, but me? I’m the terrified and constantly talking type.

Nothing that feels that good could be right.

I grab for the closest gun, aim without bothering to look, and fire.

Being rescued by two strong men has stirred something elemental inside me. Some unevolved corner of my womanhood thrills at being dragged to safety. It wants to repay these men in the oldest known currency.

It’s the sound of the ocean, your begging. Addictive.

No, I think the real reason why you like plants is because they grow. And rhizomes specifically grow underground. In the dirt. In the dark.

The island is real.” “The island is a fucking joke.” June gasps. “Carter.” “It’s true. It’s a little wonderland for people too afraid to experience life.

That’s what you are, a tree. A seed that’s taken root in a non-native environment, but that doesn’t mean it belongs.

You want to know why I like plants?” Carter says. “Because they don’t conform.

I didn’t force her to do a damn thing,” I say, but the words sound like a lie above the rush of ocean waves. I didn’t force her. No, I did something worse. I seduced her. Tricked her. Made her think she would be safe with me before I went in for the kill.

fires and floods are only disasters from a human perspective.

Where Carter is a possessive, playful kisser, Theo is brute force.

They don’t care what people think. They aren’t self-conscious or afraid. Their sprays are soft as a cloud, the petals like silk, but their roots can break through concrete.

He’s the linchpin. The piece that connects us. What I did with Theo before was undeniably sexy, but it was also missing something elemental.

he’s the sun. And the rain. He’s the elements swirling around in this ecosystem, leaving both me and Theo at his mercy.

The peanut butter has a burned taste, or maybe it’s the bread. It tastes like it came out of a machine somewhere, and the machine hated its job.

Mission protocol dictates that I should let June Porter die before I compromise the objective. Mission protocol dictates that the lives of many outweigh the lives of one. Except the mission’s already fucking compromised. It has been since before we took off at Heathrow.

There are plenty of people in cities across the world who want the same thing I do. A physical release, no strings attached. No exchange of personal information.

Man’s obsession with money has caused decades of sin and strife.

It’s pure greed. It’s pure lust. The very definition of sin, but it feels like heaven.

It’s an all-consuming feeling. Hot, like the sun baking on the beach. Sweet like caramel syrup. Electric like lightning in the dark sky over the island.

It’s one thing to defile a sweet, optimistic woman in a lace sundress. It would be something darker and more physical to do the same to him.

Their closest relatives are gingers, bananas, and arrowroots. You don’t often see those in domestic gardens.” “They’re pretending.” “Yes,” I say, my voice gentle. Because that’s what I do. Pretend.

I didn’t tell her anything that matters. Not that I come from a family of Canna lilies. That we’re wealthy and powerful and violent—and beautiful, which is the only reason we’re allowed in the garden with other plants.

The suggestion that June doesn’t belong to me feels blistering.

Doing this work always seemed like a righteous outlet for the evil, violent urges I have. In Theo’s cabin, it’s beginning to feel like a heavy chain around my neck.

My words are lost against his tongue. It’s not him I doubt. How could I, when he tastes like everything I ever wanted?

I also can’t understand how I’ve been so thoroughly hijacked by hormones and adrenaline.

Our genes make us who we are. You can’t run from the original sins coded into your biology.

Maybe she saw under my skin and through my bones to where I have a permanent brand as a killer.

She has no idea how bad this is. No idea what a threat I am. I should tell her. A good man would.

the truth is, June Porter, that we probably won't get off this island alive.