Skye Warren Quotes

Freedom’s an illusion. We all live in prisons of our own making.

He didn't use me like an object, because a thing didn't need to be mastered. He didn't use me like a slave, because a slave didn't need to feel wanted. He used me like a woman, hungry and desperate.

You're so fucking full of virtue that I can't even breathe.

You want this as much as I do' My breath left me for a minute. 'You're delusional' I forced out. 'You're telling yourself that so you feel better about what you're doing' 'Who the hell else are you going to let touch you now?'.

The hardest part isn’t dying; it’s surviving.

You're mine. I caught you, and I'm not giving you back.

I was reborn in that moment, burst into flames like a phoenix and floating in pieces to the ground. There was scorching pain and hope for a future unknown.

He's wrong for me. Dangerous. Desire doesn't ask questions. Neither does love.

Except what remains of the woman that she had been? If you have to change to be loved, then how much is that love worth?

He was my ship in a tempestuous sea. I was the talisman he kissed before a storm.

Stories are powerful." They're life and death. They're survival.

No, you can't do anything to me, not a goddamn thing. You think you're clever, huh? You want me to open up to you, and then what? Maybe I'll fall in love with you? Maybe I'll let you go? Not gonna happen. You're mine. I caught you, and I'm not giving you back.

I was a caterpillar, my many limbs held tight to my body, wrapped up in a cocoon. He paved the way, eased me from a small and ugly life to a beautiful one. The transition had been painful at times, but never more than it would be to leave him. But that was the path of a butterfly-to fly away from the one who had made her.

That’s the thing about a knight whose armor shines, though. It’s never been in battle.

love is a bitch.” I understand more than I want to. People act like love is a gift, but it’s not. It’s theft. It’s a goddamn tragedy.

How am I supposed to be interested in boys who are dancing in clubs, when this man has kissed me? How can I be satisfied with warmth when I know how it feels to burn?

There was a strange but addictive magic to sex. It tied a thin string from his soul to mine with every joining, and I wondered how many times it would take before we were inseparable.

That's a good girl." He leaned down, whispering into my ear. "I'm sorry about this. I really am. You’re too good.

He's like a lion hiding in the tall grass. Only in this case they're tall buildings of steel and concrete. By the time the gazelle sees him, it's too late.

Dreams don’t need to have a purpose. They’re part of living.” “If they’re part of living, then they’re part of dying.

But he was mine. I’d caught him. And I was going to keep him.

I love the way you are. The way you’re terrified but do it anyway. The way you stand up to me when you shouldn’t.” I

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

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

Both of us tend our families like they’re terrariums, ecosystems that only exist because we’re keeping them together.

Those scars, received in battle as a soldier, proved his bravery and honor. It was another example of him protecting others, the way he advocated for unheard groups and causes in his writing.

He's something else. Something dark and serious and solemn. His hands mesmerize me, so large and strong and yet careful. He's stone, rough-edged and impenetrable. And I am air, already blowing away.

Let’s get this straight,” he murmured. “We are not equals. I am the bars and you are inside me, trapped here, and I’m never fucking letting you go. You can touch me, you can fight me. But you can’t ever leave.

The library was one of the few places approved by my mother. I must have read almost every book in that place, living a thousand lives on paper, traveling around the world in eighty days and through the looking glass.

I didn’t have a vocabulary for what he did to me, but then no one had been able to define the man himself. An enigma, an abomination, a wish on a star. He consumed me, and I drifted inside him, blissed out on the ride.

I wanted to touch you since I first saw you walk onto the stage. Whether I have to pay or not, whether you return the favor or not, I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to finger this pretty cunt until you gush all over my hand. I’m going to keep going until you’re slick with it, until my jeans are damp with you, until the scent of your sex is in the air.

The heart is the cruelest enemy of all.

I spent so long thinking about defeating the Minotaur that I didn’t consider he might just let me go. I didn’t consider that I would have liked to stay.

That’s the thing about a knight whose armor shines, though. It’s never been in battle. Never been tested.

What game do you play?” He smiles. “I play all of them, baby. I want to know which one you like.

But sometimes we do sick and twisted things for the people we love.

Myths can tell you about the people who make them, who believe them, but it’s the truth that matters.

You want to be fucked. That’s why you came here. Say it.

You don’t really know somebody if you don’t know their name, right

We don’t have anything between us. Not promises or nice words. This is all we have. The naked truth

We’re all the epicenter of our own wars.

I was going to try lots of things. Maybe not sex, but there was more to do in the world than that, wasn’t there?

I knew I sounded like a moron, but I couldn’t help it. Alone in the world, it was nice to find common ground in even the smallest ways. “You

I’m not the kind of girl who needs gentle. You aren’t the only fucked-up person here, you know.” “You

He is his own planet, terrain to be explored, mountains to climb and oceans to drown in.

I think of Peter Pan flying off into Neverland, taking Wendy with him. I think of sword fights and fairies. That's how it feels in the clearing—like magic.

The fact is, losing you would hurt ten times worse than having half my face blown off, but I’d keep going. I’d go on living because I don’t know any other way.” Her

I love your sweet voice. I want to hear everything you can tell me. But not right now. Now I need a good little whore to use. You can do that for me, can’t you?” He

Everyone wants love. It’s the one human constant.

Finn held me as if the world were ending, as if the cacophony that surrounded us was an apocalypse, as if that was our last chance.

Why are you in a rush? I want to ask him. Why does every kiss feel like the last one?

Giving head was a no-brainer for me. I loved cocks, the way they tasted and felt in my mouth. And just the invasion of it, the submission.

I don’t even have enough scoffs to scoff properly at that.

Growing up isn’t about learning something new. It’s about unlearning the fairy tales you believe as a child.

His arms come around me, holding me in. They feel unbreakable. They are castle walls, his arms. They are a drawbridge rolled up and a moat. They keep everyone out. Only with him do I feel completely safe. Maybe I’d always known how much he’d do for me. He’d fight for me. He’d die for me

When I think about dying, I think about not seeing Grayson anymore. Like I’ve just crossed a border into a country that’s somehow magical and dark and amazing, and I don’t want to miss it now. I don’t want to lose my connection to Grayson.

I closed my lips around his thumb and sucked, swirling my tongue around the tip and across the pad. He groaned. “Your mouth feels so good. I can’t wait to fill it with my c*ck.” My breath caught. “Dirty talk?” I managed. “That’s new.” “Yes, well, I’m full of surprises.

But one thing I’d figured out about labels early on: naming something didn’t actually help you fix it. That was really all psychology was. It catalogued mental diseases, made neat little charts with symptoms and checkboxes. It couldn’t cure a damn thing—least of all me. Lance

I’d kept my horrible desires hidden from everyone. Even myself. Never admitting, even to myself, that I wanted someone to hit me, stalk me, rape me. I’d never secretly wished the sweet guy I was dating would turn into a raving psycho behind closed doors and make me do things I didn’t want. That was crazy. You’re

Tell me what you need,” he says, grave and sure. There’s only one answer I can give, only one thing a pawn truly wants. And that’s all I’ve ever been. To my father. To Gabriel. The whole world sees me as a piece to be played. And I can never really be safe as long as I’m being moved around the board against my will. “Set me free,” I whisper. His

Life isn’t about what you deserve, it’s about making the best of what you have.

Does everyone listen to what you say?” “Usually,” he says, his expression wry. “You’re an exception to the rule.

Don’t do that,” he says. “What?” “Don’t want me.

I realize how sometimes you end up in a web. Not through traps and trickery, but walking right through the front door.

I can do whatever I want to her, but that’s nothing compared to what I’ll do to someone who tries to take her away from me.

He studies me as if he can see under my skin, beneath the college student and even the mathematician, all the way to the scared little girl who’s never trusted anyone but him.

He doesn’t want me. Or he doesn’t want to want me, which almost feels worse.

Maybe Damon Scott and I are destined to repeat history, each of us too wrapped up in our own pain to help the other swim. I already know I can’t rely on him. Or Daddy.

It might be a memory, but it’s also a punishment. Is that what I mean to him?

Intellect may make us human, but this desperate desire for risk keeps us animal.

Stop playing with me.” “Why should I?” he says with a soft laugh. “It’s so much fun.

Don’t come back,” he says, his voice grim. “You made it out of here. Let that be enough.

I have been waiting for this man, the illusion of him. Someone who doesn’t exist.

It’s like I’ve been waiting for him my entire life, since I was that six-year-old girl.

Let me make this very clear. No other woman has been in this bed. You’re the only one here. The only one I’ve ever wanted here.

Don’t you get it, Penny? I would give you a thousand of those. I’d give you every dollar I have, and then steal even more if that’s what you wanted.

he’s the only person who really understands what I’ve been through. Because he went through his own hell, with the very same devil.

There’s something that can pierce the haze of desire. Grief can do it. A grief so hard and tight it’s a fist in my chest.

he loves me in that abstract, unobtainable way that says we’ll never be together. That he can love me only from afar.

I hope one day I’m the man you deserve.” “And until then?” I ask, the knot in my throat so thick and so rough. “Until then I’ll make this right the only way I know how.

Damon’s hand on my back doesn’t feel good. It feels like a warning and a prayer. It feels like a thousand volts of lust. There’s no breaking this connection. I can’t imagine wanting to.

The important thing is that I won’t be near you. You’re in danger as long as I want you. As long as I follow you, as long as I have people watching you. In danger. You’ll never be safe while I’m here.

Gabriel Miller is as bold as thunder, rumbling, unmistakable. Damon Scott is lightning, so bright he’ll blind you. They’re both forces of nature but only one will kill you just to touch him. Only one will burn you in a flash.

What did he do to you?” And this time I’m not asking about iron pokers or knives. I don’t need to understand the details of his pain. I need to understand the goal. “He made me into him,” Damon says, more resigned than angry.

It’s too unnerving, the way he looks at me. Taking me apart, uncovering every secret with methodical determination. That’s supposed to be my job. It would be better if he yelled at me. This subtle understanding is too much to take.

I know exactly what he’s become. There’s a storm inside me. A whirlwind of surprise and fear, threatening to drown me. Why are you back? That’s what I want to ask. From somewhere deep inside, another whisper. Why did you take so long?

My life would be so much simpler if I could just fuck one of those women down there. If I could just stop thinking about you for a single goddamn breath. Instead I’ve spent years taking over the fucking city so that I could give it you.

You keep trying to keep me safe, Damon Scott. No matter what it costs you.” “That’s right. My life means nothing. It hasn’t meant anything since I met a little girl who stole a hundred-dollar bill from my backpack because she was hungry.

Is that what we are—lovers? Friends? Enemies? Everything about Damon Scott is undefinable. He’s a mystery that can’t be solved. A puzzle with limitless layers. A living, breathing Escher painting with stairs folding into stairs for eternity.

Because as long as you’re with me, I’m safe. And as long as I’m with you, you are safe. It’s only when we split up that he’s been able to hurt us. Don’t you see? He wants to divide us. This is how we stop him. This is how we survive. Together.

Every myth has some basis in fact, which is why the study of ancient history is so important. Archeology can uncover some of the secrets. Myths whisper the rest of what we know. In that way myths provide more room for error and more room for discovery.

You know the answer to that, baby genius. Because it was the only way I could help you. And you don’t just mean something to me. You mean everything. Understand? Every goddamn thing.” As if he didn’t just shatter my world and put it back together, he heads upstairs.

Presidents run for office. Dictators steal it. Kings are born, and that’s why it’s the perfect way to describe Damon Scott. He commands any room he enters. He owns the very ground he walks on. And he wears that invisible crown with both pride and resignation, because it’s a bittersweet birthright.

In this moment what I want is…him. Whether he’s the wild boy or the perfectly handsome Damon Scott, he’s always been kind to me. Playful and brooding, his touch in turns coaxing and commanding. He only turned cruel once he tortured his father. Once he became his father, which was all Jonathan Scott wanted.

It’s upsetting that he looks so clean and crisp and beautiful standing beside a run-down tenement. Upsetting that he looks so good when he’s clearly a bad man. That his movie star smile hides a terrible broken soul. “You’re not the boy I knew.” “No,” he agrees. “Are you the girl I knew?” “You’ll never find out.

At odds with my great love of solitude is my great fear of isolation. Solitude is a choice. Isolation is inflicted. For example, one of my favorite places in the world is right here, in the Chapter House—but only when Jamie's in the house doing her thing, and Skye's on the porch writing a song just loud enough for me to hear her sweet voice once in a while. The boys live nearby, so even if we're not in the same room, it feels like we're all together. The pleasure of solitude is not loneliness, but the nearness of love. When I'm on a ramble in the trails here at The Warren I know my friends are a short drive away, my family is close enough to sneak away from—and to return to at a moment's notice—and on my good days I feel the pleasure of God's overarching presence, like the protective boughs of an old tree. The silence is more like an embrace. Isolation is finding yourself alone when you don't want to be.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of his dark eyes—black like night. Like inky depths I could never hope to enter. Never hope to escape. He looks so much like his father it steals my breath. Some logical part of me knows they have differences. Jonathan Scott already had silver threading his dark hair when I met him years ago. He was taller, leaner, more severe in every way. It’s my heart that’s somehow breaking, seeing in him the whisper of evil.

I’m not the only person Jonathan Scott has hurt,” I whisper. “You’re the only one he shouldn’t have touched,” he says, voice thick with remorse. “I don’t understand.” “He wanted to create a monster. And he’s good at what he does.” I shake my head. “You did what you had to do to survive.” “I didn’t just survive what he did to me. I thrived in it, understand? I became what he wanted me to be. Fuck, I was already a monster. Coming from that man. Being his son. I can’t escape that.

What did I do to you?” I ask, quiet, in a voice like I’m six years old again. Like I’m speaking to the wild boy I found by the lake, one I lured into my trailer like a wolf. He answers the same way, a surly teenage boy, fierce and vulnerable at once. “You made me care. You made me want, when I needed to leave. You made me feel, when I would have preferred to die. You brought me back to life.” And I condemned him to torture. That’s what happened when he sacrificed himself so that I could stay safe. Two children with so few choices. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Does he hurt you?” Daddy asks when I finish bandaging him. Leaning back on my heels I consider the question. The emotional ache is almost unbearable, but can that really be on Damon’s shoulders? Is it his fault if I want more of him than he can give? He doesn’t owe me anything. Not like the man in front of me. “You hurt me,” I say gently. He looks away, a familiar expression of shame on his ruddy face. “I’m sorry.” “Daddy.” I wait until he looks at me. “Don’t come back.” The words come out as tender as I can make them, as soft as I feel them. There’s no victory in this moment, only resignation. “You aren’t happy in this city. And you aren’t safe. Leave and don’t come back.