Take Onyx Quotes

This was a bad idea,” I whispered. “It was probably the smartest idea you’ve ever had.” I rubbed my palms on my hips. “It’s going to take a lot more than Thanksgiving dinner and a Christmas tree to get laid.” “Damn. There goes my whole plan.

And you're going to teach us how to defeat you?" Aaric asks from behind us. A corner of Xaden's mouth slowly curves upward. "I can teach you to try, but there's only one person capable of taking me down one day, and it isn't you, Graycastle.

You are a terrible liar. You do want this. Just as badly as I do.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. “You want this as badly as you want to go to ALA this winter.” Now my jaw was on the floor. “You don’t even know what ALA is!” “American Library Association midwinter event,” he said, grinning proudly. “Saw you obsessing over it on your blog before you got sick. I’m pretty sure you said you’d give up your firstborn child to go.” Yeah, I kind of did say that. Daemon eyes flashed. “Anyway, back to the whole you wanting me part.” I shook my head, dumbfounded. “You do want me.” Taking a deep breath, I struggled with my temper… and my amusement. “You are way too confident.” “I’m confident enough to wager a bet.” “You can’t be serious.” He grinned. “I bet that by New Year’s Day, you will have admitted that you’re madly, deeply, and irrevocably—” “Wow. Want to throw another adverb out there?” My cheeks were burning. “How about irresistibly?” I rolled my eyes and muttered, “I’m surprised you know what an adverb is.” “Stop distracting me, Kitten. Back to my bet—by New Year’s Day, you’ll have admitted that you’re madly, deeply, irrevocably, and irresistibly in love with me.” Stunned, I choked on my laugh. “And that you dream about me.” He released my arm and folded his, cocking an eyebrow. “I bet you’ll even admit that. Probably even show me your notebook with my name circled in hearts—” “Oh, for the love of God…” Daemon winked. “It’s on.

Both of my hands were on his chest. They had a mind of their own. I claimed no responsibility for them. Daemon kissed like he was a man starving for water, taking long, breathless drafts. When his hands slid...under my shirt, it was as though he reached deep inside me, warming every cell, filling evry dark space within me. Touching him, kissing him, was like having a fever all over again. I was on fire. My body burned. The world burned. Sparks flew. Against his mouth, I moaned.

Cupping my cheeks, he exhaled a soft groan, and his lips scorched mine as he deepened the kiss until we both were breathless from its intensity. Daemon moved as close as he could with the chair between us. Gripping his arms, I held onto him, wanting him closer. The chair prevented all but our lips and hands from touching. Frustrating. Move, I ordered restlessly. It trembled under my foot, and then the heavy oak chair slid out from under me, dodging our leaning bodies. Unprepared for the sudden void, Daemon lurched forward, and I was unable to carry the unexpected weight. I collapsed backward, bringing Daemon along with me. The full contact of his body, flush against mine, sent my senses into chaotic overdrive. His tongue swept over mine as his fingers splayed across my cheeks. His hand slid down my side, gripping my hip as he urged me closer. The kisses slowed and his chest rose as he drank me in. With one last lingering exploration, he lifted his head and smiled down at me. My heart skipped a beat as he hovered over me with an expression that tugged deep in my chest. He moved his finger back up, along my cheek, trailing an invisible path to my chin. "I didn't move that chair, Kitten." "I know." "I'm assuming you didn't like where it was?" "It was in your way," I said. My hands were still curled around his arms. "I can see that." Daemon smoothed a fingertip over the curve of my bottom lip before taking my hand, pulling me up.

Taking pity on me, Carissa kept her voice low. “You were calling out for Daemon.”I dropped my face in my hands and moaned. “Oh, God.” Lesa giggled. “It was kind of cute.” A minute before the tardy bell rang, I felt an all-too-familiar warmth on my neck and glanced up. Daemon swaggered into class. Textbook-less as usual. He had a notebook, but I don’t think he ever wrote anything in it. I was beginning to suspect our math teacher was an alien, because how else would Daemon get away with not doing a damn thing in class? He passed by without so much as a look. I twisted around in my chair. “I need to talk to you.” He slid into his desk chair. “Okay.” “In private,” I whispered. His expression didn’t change as he leaned back in his chair. “Meet me in the library at lunch. No one really goes in there. You know, with all those books and stuff.

You okay with all of this?" I whispered to Daemon. He shrugged. "Not like I can stop her." I knew he could if he wanted, which meant he didn't have a problem with it. "Cookie?" he offered, holding a cookie full of chocolate chips. Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. "Sure." His lips tipped up one side and he leaned toward me, his mouth inches from mine. "Come and get it." Come and get...? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips. Oh, holy alien babies everywhere... My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn't bring myself to check out what they really were doing. That cookie—those lips—were right there. Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone on else, and Daemon... dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me. Dee gagged. "I think I'm going to hurl." Mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take the cookie from his mouth like something straight out of an R rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to and I wasn't sure what that said about me. Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam to his eyes, as if he just won some battle. "Times up, Kitten." I stared at him. Breaking the cookie into two, he handed me the larger piece. I snatched it away, half tempted to throw it back in his face, but it was... it was chocolate chip. So I ate it and loved it.

Just you and me today, honey bear.” Garrick swings his arm over Xaden’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he leans in and whispers. “I’ll take good care of you.” He flashes a dimple.

There's no magic here." He tugs me against him. "No power. No lure. No taunting reminder that I can save everyone if I just reach for it and take what's offered. It's only... peace.

I rubbed my palms on my hips. "It's going to take a lot more than Thanksgiving dinner and a Christmas tree to get laid." "Damn. There goes my whole plan

And you, Hermione - you have the whole world at your feet. This life is yours for the taking. Find what you want and take it for the both of us. I’ll be rooting for you. Draco

I stalked over to the car and climbed in, slamming the door behind me. “Hey.” He frowned from outside the car. “Don’t take your anger out on Dolly.” “You named your car Dolly?” “What’s wrong with that?” I rolled my eyes.

He gave a crooked grin and shrugged. “You’re much too alluring. I’d just have to take my chances, and if you killed me,” he leaned in a bit. “Well, it would be a good death.

I don’t take kindly to blades being lifted toward Violet.” Xaden

Look at me.” I take hold of his forearm, but he doesn’t back off Faris’s throat. A thin line of blood appears at the blade’s edge. “Look. At. Me.

Cookie?” he offered, holding up a cookie full of chocolate chips. Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. “Sure.” His lips tipped to one side and he leaned towards me, his mouth inches from mine. “Come and get it.” Come and get…? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips. Oh, holy alien babies everywhere… My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to check out what they were doing. That cookie – those lips – were right there. Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone else and Demon… dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me. Dee gagged. “I think I’m going to hurl.” Mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take that cookie out of his mouth like something straight out of an R-rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to, and I wasn’t too sure what that said about me. Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just won some battle. “Time’s up, Kitten.

No!” Halden’s shout echoes down the hallway. “Not a fucking professor—” “Just wanted to clear that up,” Xaden interrupts, then lifts me into his arms. “We’ll see you once we’re rested.” He takes off past Tecarus, striding down the hall.

By the way, I’ve heard what Simon has been saying.” Heat swept over my face. Another problem, but less important in the grand scheme of things. “Yeah, he’s being a douche. I think it’s his friends. He actually apologized to me, and then when his friends showed up, he told them I was trying to get with him.” Daemon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not okey.” I sighed. “It’s no big deal.” “Maybe not to you, but it is to me.” He paused, his shoulders squaring. “I’ll take care of it.

Do you want me to sit out here with you?” His grin deepens. “When you clearly need to rest? No, love, though I appreciate the offer. It’s hard to explain, but I’m just going to take a little time to myself to soak in this view.

She only wounded you, but I’ll kill you if you take another step toward her, and it turns out that’s bad for international relations.

I didn’t want Ash or Andrew to start giving you a bunch of crap because of me like they did with Dawson and Beth. So if you think I’m embarrassed of you or not ready to make my intentions very public, then you better get that idea out of your head. Because if that’s what it takes, then it’s on.” …….. “Daemon…” His smile was really starting to concern me. “I told you, Kitten. I like a challenge.

We start down the steps, Bodhi and me taking lead. “Xaden’s going to be pissed,” I whisper so the others don’t hear. “Which is why you’re going to be the one to tell him when we pull it off,” he answers with a grimace. “He won’t kill you.

You’re much too alluring. I’d just have to take my chances, and if you killed me”—he leaned in a bit—“well, it would be a good death.

My last name is tied to the title, but we could take yours,

But even harder than taking a life is doing nothing while one is extinguished beside you.

I was trying to protext you.” He lifted his eyes, and they pierced through me. “You wanted to keep me safe?” “Yes”. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Not that it turned out that way in the end, but when I found out Blake and Vaughn were related, all I could think was that he played me – I let myself be played. And he knew how close we were. They’d do to you what they did to Dawson. There is no way I could have lived with that.” …………….. “You should’ve never been worried about me getting hurt.” He stood, running both hands through his hair. “You know I can take care of myself. You know I can handle my own.” “I know,” I said. “But I wasn’t going to knowingly put you at risk. You mean too much to me.

Glistening liquid pooled in two spots. Matthew was trying to clean it up, but his hands were shaking, his jaw working. I grabbed some towels from the linen closet and knelt beside him. “I have this,” I whispered. Matthew sat back, lifting his head and closing his eyes. He let out a staggered breath. “This should’ve never happened.” Tear built in my eyes as I sopped up what was left of Adam. “I know.” They are all like my children. Now I’ve lost another, and for what? It doesn’t make sense.” His shoulders shook. “It never makes sense.” “I’m sorry.” Wetness gathered on my cheeks, and I wiped at my face with my shoulder. “His is my fault. He was trying to protect me.” …. “It’s not just your fault Katy. This was a world you stumbled into, one filled with treachery and greed. You weren’t prepared for it. Neither are any of them.” I lifted my head, blinking back tears. “I trusted Blake when I should’ve trusted Daemon. I let this happen.” Matthew twisted toward me, grasping my cheeks. “You cannot take on the full responsibility for this. You didn’t make the choices Blake did. You didn’t force his hand.” I choked on a broken sob as grief tore through me. His words didn’t ease the guilt, and he knew it. Then the strangest thing happened. He pulled me into his arms, and I broke. Sobs raked my entire body. I pressed my head against his shoulder, my body shaking his, or maybe he was crying for his loss, too. Time passed, and it became New Year. I welcomed it with tears streaming down my face and a heart ripped apart. When my tear dried, my eyes nearly swollen shut. He pulled back, pushing my hair aside. “This isn’t the end of anything for you … for Daemon. This is just the beginning, and now you know what you’re truly up against. Don’t end up like Dawson and Bethany. Both of you are stronger than that.

The crimson satin lining gleamed in the firelight, and so, too, did his eyes. When he looked up at her, there was a mist to them once again. “Little magpie,” he whispered as he looked at the black onyx ring. “You gave up everything for this, didn’t you?” She nodded. “That is how much I trust you. Everything I had hidden away in that biscuit jar went to this. All my worldly goods are in that ring, Jude.” “Then I will take it and hold it close, and never give you cause for regret.” He put the ring on his index finger, and Isabella grinned. How perfect it looked—how utterly sensual. She wanted that ringed hand on her body, comforting her. Loving her.

there’s only one person capable of taking me down one day, and it isn’t you, Graycastle.

There’s no magic here.” He tugs me against him. “No power. No lure. No taunting reminder that I can save everyone if I just reach for it and take what’s offered. It’s only…peace.

Not because I don't care, but because it takes all my energy to perform what should be the natural act of breathing.

What did you do?" My head snaps toward Imogen, and a deep sense of foreboding takes root in my chest. She slowly lifts her gaze to mine. "What you asked me to.

My power, my body, my soul—it’s all yours.” He slips a hand down my stomach and lightly strokes my hypersensitive clit. “Take whatever you need.

A corner of Xaden’s mouth slowly curves upward. “I can teach you to try, but there’s only one person capable of taking me down one day, and it isn’t you, Graycastle.” My cheeks heat as heads swing my way.

And you’re going to teach us how to defeat you?” Aaric asks from behind us. A corner of Xaden’s mouth slowly curves upward. “I can teach you to try, but there’s only one person capable of taking me down one day, and it isn’t you, Graycastle.

Do me a favor,” I say to Xaden, unfastening the conduit’s leather strap at my hip and hooking it over my wrist so the orb fits comfortably in my palm. Then I take three steps forward onto the mat and open the door to Tairn’s power with a hell of a smirk. “Don’t let me hurt you.

I am not deceased.” He gains his feet, his talons digging into the rocky soil. Relief pricks at my eyes, and my vision wobbles. “Do not dehydrate on my account,” he lectures. “It takes more than weather to fell me.” His golden gaze drops to my knee. “Wish I could say the same for you.

When Vince came into the room, necklace of onyx draped over his throat, and one attached to his arm like a leash, his eyes changed at the sight of her. He turned to Bellamy. “But where’s Adeline?” “We sent her home,” Malik said. “Then who—” “Me,” Charlie said. “If you can make a stupid decision, then I can make one too.” He shook his head. “This is supposed to be a punishment.” “Oh, I know,” she said. “You’re going to be stuck in my head, with all my secrets. Even I don’t know all my secrets. It’s going to be awful.” He appeared to be seriously considering strangling her. “Char.” “She volunteered,” Vicereine said. “And confessed to quite a few crimes just to convince us.” The look he gave her was scathing. “Did she?” “I’ll need your feet to be bare,” Vicereine said, all business now. Charlie reached down to take off her boots. They were already untied, the laces loose from kicking them off in the tower. Vince appeared to be belatedly wondering if he could break free of the onyx chains and escape. She saw him pull against the shining loop over his wrist. It must have held, because his expression set into grim lines. “You don’t know what I’ll be like, after. No one does,” he said under his breath. “You’ll still be you,” Charlie whispered back.

Give me that.” To my surprise, Mira takes the kitten, not the map, cradling it against her chest with one hand. “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters. She looks at him like he’s sprouted whiskers. “You named a kitten Broccoli?” “No one really wants broccoli, but it’s good for you, so seems fitting to me.” He shrugs.

No, no. Staying down is a safer bet for everyone involved,” Xaden warns him. “She only wounded you, but I’ll kill you if you take another step toward her, and it turns out that’s bad for international relations.” I glance his way as someone descends the steps, and he arches his scarred eyebrow. “I’m giving diplomacy a try. Not sure it’s for me, though.

Is that how you feel when you dip your shoulder for me?” I ask Tairn. “Dishonored?” “I am the second-largest dragon on the Continent and a revered warrior. My tales are legendary. My mate unparalleled. My feats unmatched—” “Doesn’t change my question.” I cut him off before he starts to list his accolades. “It would take a great deal more than a change of posture to dishonor me,” he replies.

The Duke of Tyrrendor,” Blue Sash announces loudly, gesturing to the four steps that lead up the dais on the left, “and his consort, Violet Sorrensail.” Close enough. Xaden walks up the steps first, his gaze sweeping the floor, the chairs, the table, and even the place settings before he reaches back with a hand. It’s unnecessary but sweet, so I take it and walk up after him. “It’s Sorrengail,” he corrects Blue Sash.

Narelle tilts her head. “I did not stutter.” She looks pointedly at the armchair. “Put that back in its place.” Xaden lifts a brow but does as she asks, then crosses the small section of the room and sheathes my dagger at my hip. “Thank you,” I whisper. He brushes a kiss over my temple, then takes the empty spot at my right side. “Get off the floor, Urson—you’re bleeding everywhere. Take your sister to the back and wake her up. Did I not say you were ill-prepared to carry a weapon?” Narelle lectures as she avoids the spilled blood. “Please forgive my grandchildren. They took our task of protecting the books from any riders who aren’t…you a little too seriously.” She sinks into the chair. “Thank you, young man,” she says to Xaden, then gives him a second look before glancing at Dain. “My, the Continent does have some fine-looking men.

Letters blend to give rise to words  Like colors pave way for the birth of million shades! Evanescence reminisces sepia! Memory takes back to black and white! Music pops hot pink! Dance rocks wine red! Marvelous is miraculous as the indigo! Magnificent is magnanimous like Russian red! Splendid is classy like arctic blue! Resplendent inspires like  strawberry pink! Flamboyance is flowery like fuchsia! Flawless is perfect like flamingo! Extraordinary stands out like lime yellow! Peculiar is unique like cyan! Pleasant pleases like periwinkle! Soothing soothes like lemonade! Opulent glitters gold! Spectacular shimmers silver! Nice is as mild as dulce de leche! Attractive dazzles onyx! Powerful is headstrong like tangerine! Puissance stupefies like scarlet red! Mellifluence is dissolving, like lavender! Sonorous sounds magenta! Lovely cutely blushes! Sweet is peachy! Richness is wealthy like lush green! Poverty is brown as in flower wilt! Candid is frank as candy red! Altruism is selfless like parmesan! But, BEAUTY IS IRIDESCENT! Which

Swear you’ll sound the alarm if I go too far, that you’ll keep it safe, even if it’s from me.” “What—” I start, but the gym door opens, and I look over my shoulder to see Garrick waving a rolled parchment. “The Earl of Lewellen said you’d be in here. Orders aren’t optional, Riorson, even for nobility. We need to go.” “Promise me,” Xaden says, stroking his thumb under my ear and completely ignoring his best friend. “You’re leaving?” I swing my gaze back to Xaden’s, realizing that’s why the messenger had tracked him down. “Now?” He leans in, blocking out the rest of the world. “Promise me, Violet. Please.” He’ll never go too far, never lose his soul, so I nod. “I promise.” Xaden’s eyes slide shut for a heartbeat, and blatant relief shines from their depths when he opens them. “Thank you.” “I know you can hear me.” Garrick raises his voice. “Let’s go.” “I love you.” Xaden kisses me hard and fast, and it’s over before I can even process it’s actually happened. “I love you, too.” I grab his hand as he withdraws. “Tell me what the king gave you.” He takes a deep breath. “He gave me back my title and the seat in the Senarium.” Holy shit. My lips part. “Not just Aretia, either…he gave me Tyrrendor,” Xaden says slowly, like he can’t believe it, either. And he doesn’t want it. My chest clenches. “Xaden—” “Don’t wait up.” He presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist, then strides toward Garrick. “I’ll be back by eight a.m. to sign that accord,” he calls back over his shoulder. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.” “Be careful.” He’s the Duke of Tyrrendor.

They stood up and the world was totally different. The wheat was an onyx sea, ever moving in shadow. Above it the heavens were illuminated with the wink of stars and planets, the Milky Way like a giant streak of glimmer slashing across the sky. She was standing right next to him, awed by the beauty of the night sky and their tiny, tiny place in it. It seemed perfectly natural that he leaned down to gently press his lips to her temple. It wasn’t a kiss really, it was a consolation. “Take my hand,” he said. D.J. could see nothing as he unerringly led her through the darkened grain to the edge of the field.

A contract marriage would be most wise,” Nairi agrees with a nod, ignoring Garrick’s words. “We could have the legalities performed in the morning at temple, and then hear what will, no doubt, be a plea for our assistance in their war tomorrow afternoon.” Wood creaks behind me. “Draw up the papers,” Xaden says, gripping my chair. Bile rises in my throat. What the fuck is he doing? Cat’s head snaps in our direction, Mira and Garrick both gawk, and Aaric continues eating. I want the damned bond back now. “Ah, there we go!” Faris claps twice. “What an excellent decision. Shall we go with three or four years?” “Lifetime. Anything less is unacceptable.” Xaden slides his hand to the back of my neck. “And her full name for the papers is Violet Sorrengail. Two Rs.” I’m torn between throwing a dagger at his chest and kissing the shit out of him. Mira stifles a grin. “My last name is tied to the title, but we could take yours,” Xaden offers, and his eyes soften just slightly when they lock on mine. “You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?” “That is not what they meant,” I whisper at Xaden.

his hands moved busily among the puppets, choosing, discarding, until they pounced finally on the moon with her crystal eyes and her hands shaped like stars. 'I will be the moon,' Kyel said. 'You must make a wish to me.' Lydea slid her fingers into the fox's head, with its sly smile and fiery velvet pelt. 'I wish,' she said, 'that you would take your nap.' 'No,' the prince said patiently, 'you must make a true wish. And I will grant it because I am the moon.' 'Then I must make a fox's wish. I wish for an open door to every hen house, and the ability to jump into trees.' The moon sank onto the blue hillock of Kyel's knee. 'Why?' 'So that I can escape the farmer's dogs when they run after me.' 'Then you should wish,' the prince said promptly, 'that you could jump as high as the moon.' 'A good wish. But there are no hens on the moon, and how would I get back to Ombria?' The moon rose again, lifted a golden hand. 'On a star.' The governess smiled. The fox stroked the prince's hair while he shook away the moon and replaced it with the sorceress, who had one amethyst eye and one emerald, and who wore a black cloak that shimmered with ribbons of faint, changing colors. 'I am the sorceress who lives underground,' the prince said. 'Is there really a sorceress who lives underground?' 'So they --' Lydea checked herself, let the fox speak. 'So they say, my lord.' 'How does she live? Does she have a house?' She paused again, glimpsing a barely remembered tale. 'I think she does. Maybe even her own city beneath Ombria. Some say that she has an ancient enemy, who appears during harsh and perilous times in Ombria's history. Then and only then does the sorceress make her way out of her underground world to fight the evil and restore hope to Ombria.' ... The sorceress descended, long nose down on the silk. Kyel picked another puppet up, looked at it silently a moment. The queen of pirates, whose black nails curved like scimitars, whose hair was a rigid knoll in which she kept her weapons, stared back at him out of glittering onyx eyes.

It seems like everyone’s life has been or will be connected to darkness of some kind. Sometimes it’s a deep shade of pure onyx — a complete and total absence of light. Other times it has more grey undertones, with sunshine begging to come out from behind storm clouds. Sometimes there are people who go through the worst of the worst and come out the other side determined to make themselves better because of their traumas. Some come out the other side broken, beaten down, bloody, and can barely manage to pick themselves back up again. Sometimes just pulling yourself off the dirty ground is enough of a win. It’s enough to tell those storm clouds to suck your fucking dick, that they won’t get the best of you. Other times, it’s okay to lie there in a pool of blood and let the icy rain wash it all away, to take the beating that the storm gives you until you can manage to get up and limp through the next thunderstorm. Yet, there are days when your best just isn’t enough to make it through the storm. — Bo Reid, A Reaper Christmas

It seems like everyone’s life has been or will be connected to darkness of some kind. Sometimes it’s a deep shade of pure onyx — a complete and total absence of light. Other times it has more grey undertones, with sunshine begging to come out from behind storm clouds. Sometimes there are people who go through the worst of the worst and come out the other side determined to make themselves better because of their traumas. Some come out the other side broken, beaten down, bloody, and can barely manage to pick themselves back up again. Sometimes just pulling yourself off the dirty ground is enough of a win. It’s enough to tell those storm clouds to suck your fucking dick, that they won’t get the best of you. Other times, it’s okay to lie there in a pool of blood and let the icy rain wash it all away, to take the beating that the storm gives you until you can manage to get up and limp through the next thunderstorm. Yet, there are days when your best just isn’t enough to make it through the storm.

I want to take ownership of her pain, become the hand that pushes her under the water when she wants to drown in herself and also when it’s time for her to breathe again.

Please remember three things: It’s not your fault. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. You deserve someone who will hold your hand when the darkness takes over.

Love is like taking a leap, Darragh. You don't know when you step off the ledge if the drop is six inches or six thousand feet. What matters is you jump.

We've assembled a group of people, your team, people who love you and pray for you. Take a look around the circle. These people represent thousands of words spent in prayer before the throne of God, begging for your safe return to the fold, begging for your peace, your faith, your heart.

Do you often take leisurely afternoon jaunts into the forest?” I finally asked. “I’m a little busy for such distractions.” I rolled my eyes. “Busy with what exactly? Bedding women and killing people for sport?” His voice was like a deep, satisfied purr. “Don’t tempt me, bird.

Fix you? No baby, we’re both too far gone for fixing. I want to take our messy pieces and create our own little fucked up jigsaw puzzle.” I brush my thumb against her pouting lips. “You have all the pieces I need to complete the hollow frame I’ve become.

The Peacock & The Eagle: Cleopatra's Entry Into Tarsus by Stewart Stafford Cleopatra arrives, regal and mighty, From ocean spray as Aphrodite, Wealthy and waif, yearning for her, Dared all to defy her possessive aura. Mark Antony, struck by her sultry gaze, Lepidus, prisoner in a bureaucrat's maze, Sees power slipping from a friend’s hand, Ensnared by a siren from a scorched land. Lepidus was Caesar's trusted right hand; A granule falling through hourglass sand, Antony, headstrong military provocateur; Funeral orator from bloody crown auteur. Bargain's scorpion pincers; no longer twain: Cleopatra was Ceres, promising Rome grain, Antony was Mars' armed emissary, Business and pleasure's flood tributary. Antony: "Barge of emerald, Elysium's onyx! Beyond counsel words of sage sardonic, Gliding the Cydnus's silken seam, This Nile Helen shall be my queen." Lepidus: "Pleasure vessel of a floating whore, Yours for a sesterce on the Tiber's shore, Honour your oath, noble Roman creed, Lest passion’s shipwreck sets out to sea.” "This Venus virago on her mirage barge; Serpent prow, silver oars, rhythmic charge! What hubris to think she can equal, The bloody talons of our Roman eagle!" Antony: "Feast your eyes past peacock's bower, She speaks Rome's tongue of naked power. Mark it, that obsidian Sphinx stings - Human head, lion's body, eagle wings! "That is the form she takes to the public: I smell a perfumed alliance for the Republic! With Plebeians as her tickled cats, they hum, I crave her beauty and company. Come!" © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

They’re luck charms,” the magpie said, waving a feathery hand over the trays of gems. “White is for joy; green for wealth; red for love and fertility; blue for wisdom … Take your pick.” Hunt asked, “What’s the black for?” The magpie’s onyx-colored mouth curved upward. “For the opposite of luck.” She tapped one of the black opals, kept contained within a glass dome. “Slip it under the pillow of your enemy and see what happens to them.” Bryce cleared her throat. “Interesting as that may be—” Hunt held out a silver mark. “For the white.” Bryce’s brows rose, but the magpie swept up the mark, and plunked the white opal into Hunt’s awaiting palm. They left, ignoring her gratitude for their business. “I didn’t peg you for superstitious,” Bryce said. But Hunt paused at the end of the row of stalls and took her hand. He pressed the opal into it, the stone warm from his touch. The size of a crow’s egg, it shimmered in the firstlights high above. “You could use some joy,” Hunt said quietly. Something bright sparked in her chest. “So could you,” she said, attempting to press the opal back into his palm. But Hunt stepped away. “It’s a gift.” Bryce’s face warmed again, and she looked anywhere but at him as she smiled. Even though she could feel his gaze lingering on her face while she slid the opal into the pocket of her jacket.

This one is for my chronically sad babes. Please remember three things: It’s not your fault. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. You deserve someone who will hold your hand when the darkness takes over.

This one is for my chronically sad babes. Please remember three things: It’s not your fault. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. You deserve someone who will hold your hand when the darkness takes over. With love, Alexia

You showed bravery when you had no hope it would save you. Whether you know it or not, Arwen, there is a wild strength inside of you. You don't need Ryder, or Dagan, or me, or anyone else to take care of you. Remember that. You are enough.

Around a curved corner came the glimmer of an eerie green light. Talis stopped, his legs refusing to take another step. His blood thumped hard through his temples. Two ghostly-green, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness. In between stood a statue of the terrifying Zagros—in a battle-stance—wielding an executioner’s blade in one hand and in the other he held hundreds of tiny, severed heads tied together by a string. The onyx statue of the Lord of the Underworld. His mouth was open wide, tongue stretched out. Talis felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck. The statue was revolting. A cloaked figure in black knelt before the statue, mumbling prayers. Golden orbs floated in the air all around the chamber. Candles were lit around the kneeling figure, giving off a freakish, flickering light. Mara grabbed Talis' arm and they hid behind a boulder and bent down, straining to listen. “I vow,” the figure said, “that my father… his soul find shall find respite. The endless war of Nyx—spare him, oh great Zagros, I beg you will spare him such a fate.” She leaned close to Talis, and whispered, “It’s Rikar.” What was he doing here? He was a foul-tempered student of the Order of the Dawn and Nikulo’s sparring partner. After she spoke, Rikar whirled around and glared at them. His eyes glowed green for a moment and then dimmed to black. “You dare violate the sanctity of this temple?” Mara and Talis stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the violent green light glowing around the statue. Rikar raised a hand and Talis felt a sickening energy creep up his legs and into his stomach, squeezing hard until massive bursts of pain shot through his body. Talis winced. What kind of strange magic was Rikar using on him? “Stop it!” Mara hissed, glowering at Rikar. “Leave it for the Blood Dagger competition.” Talis gasped and coughed as the pain diminished. He balled up a fist and started to charge at Rikar but Mara held him back. “I won’t even need to use a drop of magic against you pathetic runts.” Rikar stood and strode past them, shoving Talis aside. “Nice to see you’re all better, Your Royal Highness. I look forward to using my sword to make you wounded again.” He chuckled, pulling his cloak over his head as he stormed out. “What was that all about?” Mara shook her head. “Why was he in here, anyway?” “I really don’t want to know… Rikar has acted incredibly strange since his father died.” Mara shuddered, as if a cold chill had fallen over her. “Didn’t you used to be friends? What happened to him?” Talis wished he knew, but Rikar had always refused to talk about what had happened. Turning aside, she took a deep breath and faced the onyx statue, as if filled with a new resolve. “We have to complete the rites of initiation and do it quickly.” She motioned toward the shrine and they knelt together on the outer ley line. After their knees touched the ley line, a faint green light rose and strengthened into a blistering blaze that Talis could feel in his legs.

Around a curved corner came the glimmer of an eerie green light. Talis stopped, his legs refusing to take another step. His blood thumped hard through his temples. Two ghostly-green, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness. In between stood a statue of the terrifying Zagros—in a battle-stance—wielding an executioner’s blade in one hand and in the other he held hundreds of tiny, severed heads tied together by a string. The onyx statue of the Lord of the Underworld. His mouth was open wide, tongue stretched out. Talis felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck. The statue was revolting. A cloaked figure in black knelt before the statue, mumbling prayers. Golden orbs floated in the air all around the chamber. Candles were lit around the kneeling figure, giving off a freakish, flickering light. Mara grabbed Talis' arm and they hid behind a boulder and bent down, straining to listen. “I vow,” the figure said, “that my father… his soul find shall find respite. The endless war of Nyx—spare him, oh great Zagros, I beg you will spare him such a fate.” She leaned close to Talis, and whispered, “It’s Rikar.” What was he doing here? He was a foul-tempered student of the Order of the Dawn and Nikulo’s sparring partner. After she spoke, Rikar whirled around and glared at them. His eyes glowed green for a moment and then dimmed to black. “You dare violate the sanctity of this temple?” Mara and Talis stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the violent green light glowing around the statue. Rikar raised a hand and Talis felt a sickening energy creep up his legs and into his stomach, squeezing hard until massive bursts of pain shot through his body. Talis winced. What kind of strange magic was Rikar using on him? “Stop it!” Mara hissed, glowering at Rikar. “Leave it for the Blood Dagger competition.” Talis gasped and coughed as the pain diminished. He balled up a fist and started to charge at Rikar but Mara held him back. “I won’t even need to use a drop of magic against you pathetic runts.” Rikar stood and strode past them, shoving Talis aside. “Nice to see you’re all better, Your Royal Highness. I look forward to using my sword to make you wounded again.” He chuckled, pulling his cloak over his head as he stormed out.

We helped to move Cory a certain distance on her journey. Each leg will take someone different so she doesn’t grow too dependent upon any one person. She had to go to Earth. That was her time to find her daughters. As Terry and Char had to go to Onyx Station. As Marcie and Kaeden had to go wherever they needed to go. We have our own journeys to follow, but our paths are inextricably linked. We travel together when we can, alone when we must, but we never forget how far we’ve come.

And yet I’m the one the king appointed to take over as commanding general of Basgiath

Our mother knew,” Mira says, taking her place at the end of the bookshelf. “She wasn’t enthusiastic about it or anything, but she knew love when she saw it. But she certainly never told us about our father coming here.

Quill scratches across parchment as Jesinia quickly takes notes, but there’s a definite smirk on her mouth still.

Violet, no,” Dain protests. “‘Rebel’ is so…outdated. We prefer the term ‘revolutionary,’” I inform Aura, taking a measured step in her direction and welcoming the crackle of sizzling power in my fingertips. “And if you’re going to wield, then it’s me you’ll be dealing with.

We make decisions as a squad. We’ll take whatever punishment you want to give us as a squad. What we won’t do is stand by while civilians die, regardless of what citizenship they hold. And before you ask, every single dragon and gryphon agreed.

And you’re going to teach us how to defeat you?” Aaric asks from behind us. A corner of Xaden’s mouth slowly curves upward. “I can teach you to try, but there’s only one person capable of taking me down one day, and it isn’t you, Graycastle.” My cheeks heat as heads swing my way.

Rebel’ is so…outdated. We prefer the term ‘revolutionary,’” I inform Aura, taking a measured step in her direction and welcoming the crackle of sizzling power in my fingertips. “And if you’re going to wield, then it’s me you’ll be dealing with.

because you took my fucking pen!” the second-year ahead of us seethes, lurching over the seat of the girl next to him. “You always take it, and I’ve had it!

There’s no magic here,” he says again, lowering his head, ghosting his lips over mine. “I can fuck you as many times as we want, as many times as you can take, and I can’t lose control.

Though fliers only wield lesser magics, in my vast experience with the Northern Wing, they are formidable opponents in both mindwork and hand-to-hand. Take heed, younger riders: do not unseat against them unless forced to do so. —Tactics part II, A Personal Memoir by Lieutenant Lyron Panchek

take stock of who we have on the floor. On Rhiannon’s right, Bragen and Neve—the third-year fliers—stand with Imogen and Quinn, and to Ridoc’s left are Trager, Cat, Maren, Baylor, Avalynn, Sloane, and Kai. Aaric and Lynx are seated behind us, and it catches me off guard to realize that all four of the first-years in the First Wing squad are sitting, too. Dragons are taking their time when it comes to channeling.

Good.” Ridoc nods, then rocks back on his heels and takes a deep breath. “Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us…us, if you know what I’m saying.” I fight to keep from rolling my eyes. “Well aware,” Xaden replies. “First because I trust Violet, and second”—he glances at Ridoc in a dismissive once-over—“it wasn’t a big enough strike.

What did you do?” My head snaps toward Imogen, and a deep sense of foreboding takes root in my chest. She slowly lifts her gaze to mine. “What you asked me to.

No power. No lure. No taunting reminder that I can save everyone if I just reach for it and take what’s offered. It’s only...peace.

Do not dehydrate on my account,” he lectures. “It takes more than weather to fell me.

My power, my body, my soul - it's all yours. Take whatever you need.

Dain isn’t the strongest!” Andarna repeats, and this time, I get the point. I am. Aura whips off her glove and flares her hand. I throw, releasing my dagger a second before flame erupts from her palm. The steel pins her glove to the wooden support of the dais. Aura gasps, and the flame dies before it can touch Dain, her head tracking the loss of her glove before whipping toward me. Her eyes narrow. “Sorrengail.” “Violet, no,” Dain protests. “‘Rebel’ is so…outdated. We prefer the term ‘revolutionary,’” I inform Aura, taking a measured step in her direction and welcoming the crackle of sizzling power in my fingertips. “And if you’re going to wield, then it’s me you’ll be dealing with.

Xaden is mine. My heart, my soul, my everything. He channeled from the earth to save me, and I’ll scour the world until I find a way to save him right back. Even if it takes bargaining with Tecarus for access to every book on the damned Continent or capturing dark wielders one by one to question, I’ll find a cure.

wobbles. “Do not dehydrate on my account,” he lectures. “It takes more than weather to fell me.” His golden gaze drops to my knee. “Wish I could say the same for you.

When this is over, we should take as much leave as they’ll give us and spend it all in Aretia. We can figure out what life is supposed to look like without the daily threat of death. You can govern the province you love during the day, then slide into bed with me at night. Or I can always join you in the Assembly chamber. You do some of your best work on that throne. —Recovered Correspondence of Cadet Violet Sorrengail to His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor

What happens to me if you turn?” My hands curl at my sides. “What happens to Tairn and Sgaeyl if you give in?” Xaden’s jaw flexes. “Do venin get once-a-week visits?” I take a step closer and lift my chin. “Does their bond survive you turning? Does ours? You and I are tethered for life, Xaden Riorson. Am I expected to turn with you? Is that the only way to keep our dragons alive if you give up?

But even harder than taking a life is doing nothing while one is extinguished beside you. Keep your eyes forward, Mira. —Page seventy-one, the Book of Brennan

But even harder than taking a life is doing nothing while one is extinguished beside you. Keep your eyes forward, Mira.

It’s not just the power that’s addicting; it’s the freedom to not feel this. His words play back in my head, and a new fear takes root, burrowing insidiously in the pit of my stomach.

I’ll do whatever it takes to save Mira. “Fine.

Do you need me to take care of you or kick your ass?

When I look up, everyone is staring at me. “What? I kept the gryphons close and paired dragons with similar flight strengths”—my gaze finds Xaden’s, and he’s not amused with my group pairings—“except for ours. Tairn and Sgaeyl have the best chance of staying in contact when separated if the rest of these islands have the same level of magic. It’s better for the group if they split for the day.” He arches his scarred brow. “Just you and me today, honey bear.” Garrick swings his arm over Xaden’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he leans in and whispers. “I’ll take good care of you.” He flashes a dimple.

take full responsibility for my safety. You are a giant battle flag waving in the wind right now, Xaden, but you’re my battle flag, and you’d do the same thing in my position.

Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.

Can I take mine off?” Andarna asks, swiveling her head to gnaw on the metal strap across her shoulder. “No!” Tairn and I shout simultaneously. “No,” Andarna mocks. “Fine. I seek sustenance.

I love her. That is the emotion I cling to, the fire of pure power burning at the feeling’s edges, and I know if I take it any further, it will be the next and final piece to float away. I bare my teeth and yank my hand from the ground, gasping for a full breath as my heart thunders.

No. I’m just here because Halden can’t control his temper and Violet didn’t just bond one of our most terrifying battle dragons, but also an irid—the seventh breed. Dark wielders are spreading. People are dying as we sit here. Every day we’re gone could change the battle map in ways we can’t begin to predict. And my kingdom is full of assholes who won’t take refugees under king’s orders, so tracking down the irids is our best hope of not only adding to our numbers but maybe figuring out how we beat the venin six hundred years ago.

I don’t take kindly to blades being lifted toward Violet.

Do you need me to take care of you or kick your ass? I’m fully capable of and willing to do both.

She’s just surprised.” Andarna rises, but she leaves her head level with the others. “And you’re in her face.” To my complete and utter shock, all six dragons take a step back. “Thank you,” Andarna says.

You have to accept what I already have," Xaden says to me. "The man you love no longer fully belongs to himself." He walks past Lewellen into the great hall, taking my heart with him.