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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #nathan
Xander Stryker." A thick, rich voice filled the hall. The speaker stopped at the altar, standing in a blue robe. His thick brown hair was slicked back and tied in a small ponytail in the back and his solid blue eyes--matching the shade of his robe--shifted from one to the other. Xander blinked several times, clearing the grogginess from his mind, and began to sit up, nodding his respects at the newcomer. "My name is Ronen," the newcomer said, bowing his head as he took a step towards him, "and it will be my pleasure to guide you through the change." he stopped for a moment, smiling warmly, before carefully lifting Xander’s left arm. Before continuing, he locked his gaze on Xander's, "You are sure that this is what you want?" Xander nodded. There was a sharp sting then as Ronen bit into his wrist and Xander flinched before a warm rush made the pain subside and the room began to spin. Thrown off kilter, Xander felt himself start to fall as the poison seeped into the veins of his arm and, after a long, lingering moment, crawled past his shoulder and into his chest--into his heart--where it suddenly exploded into a full-body inferno. He was burning to death! When he was certain that he was on fire there was a sudden cool rush; a wave of ice that ran through the length of his body and seeped into his core until he found his eyelids and pried them open. The image of Depok and Ronen came into focus and he was vaguely aware of Depok's left hand on his shoulder as the pure-blood pulled his fangs away from his wrist. Mind still reeling, Xander noticed, not without a bit of shock, that he was still lying on top of the altar. A moment later, his eyes rolled back in his skull and the lights from the candles melted into a solid glow that swallowed him and faded to black. As Death swooped down and enveloped him, he heard Depok's voice in the distance: "Welcome home, Xander. ↗
#change #crimson-shadow #fang #goth #horror
There are any number of reasons to want novels to survive. The way [Jonathan] Franzen thinks about it is that books can do things, socially useful things, that other media can't. He cites -- as one does -- the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard and his idea of busyness: that state of constant distraction that allows people to avoid difficult realities and maintain self-deceptions. With the help of cell phones, e-mail and handheld games, it's easier to stay busy, in the Kierkegaardian sense, than it's ever been. Reading, in its quietness and sustained concentration, is the opposite of busyness. "We are so distracted by and engulfed by the technologies we've created, and by the constant barrage of so-called information that comes our way, that more than ever to immerse yourself in an involving book seems socially useful," Franzen says. "The place of stillness that you have to go to to write, but also to read seriously, is the point where you can actually make responsible decisions, where you can actually engage productively with an otherwise scary and unmanageable world. ↗
No" she jerked back, stared up at him. Her eyes were like thunderclouds. He'd never seen them like that. Shock and fear filled them. Her face was paper white. Her body shuddering. "Don't you leave me!" She gripped his shirt and tried to shake him, tears falling from her eyes. "Don't you leave Noah." His head lowered. He touched her lips with his and knew this woman held the best part of him. The memories of the husband he had been, the man he had been. He couldn't destroy that. He refuse to. He pushed her to Jordan slowly, loath to let her go. To release her. Knowing that releasing her was the only way to save the memories she held. "Don't you leave!" She screamed the order, eyes blazing, her lips trembling as tears fell and hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. "If you leave me, Noah Blake, if you don't come back when this is over, don't bother coming back at all. He touched her cheek. Ran his thumb over her lips. "You are the best part of me," he whispered. "Always remember that, Sabella. The best part of me." Before she could grab him, hold him to her, he pulled away, grabbed one of the rifles Mike had set on the table across the room. And left. ↗
#impossible-love #leaving #lora-leigh #nathan-malone #noah-blake
No" she jerked back, stared up at him. Her eyes were like thunderclouds. He'd never seen them like that. Shock and fear filled them. Her face was paper white. Her body shuddering. "Don't you leave me!" She gripped his shirt and tried to shake him, tears falling from her eyes. "Don't you leave Noah." His head lowered. He touched her lips with his and knew this woman held the best part of him. The memories of the husband he had been, the man he had been. He couldn't destroy that. He refuse to. He pushed her to Jordan slowly, loath to let her go. To release her. Knowing that releasing her was the only way to save the memories she held. "Don't you leave me!" She screamed the order, eyes blazing, her lips trembling as tears fell and hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. "If you leave me, Noah Blake, if you don't come back when this is over, don't bother coming back at all. He touched her cheek. Ran his thumb over her lips. "You are the best part of me," he whispered. "Always remember that, Sabella. The very best part of me." Before she could grab him, hold him to her, he pulled away, grabbed one of the rifles Mike had set on the table across the room. And left.” ― Lora Leigh, Wild Card ↗
#broken-hearted #impossible-love #leaving #nathan-malone #noah-blake
Bella. "Nathan Malone is dead." He caught her shoulders, shook her. "No!" she screamed back. And she couldn't hit him. She wanted to, and she couldn't. "look at me," he yelled. "Look at me, Bella. What happened killed the man you loved. All that is left is this. The man you see now.The name name I carry now. Anything else is no possible." "No!" She pulled away from him, stumbled to her feet, and shook with the rage pounding through her. "The name may be dead, but you are not dead. "You weren't just a SEAL," she cried. "You weren't just a friend, or a son, or a grandson, or a brother. You weren't just a warrior." She clenched her fists, pressed to her stomach as the agony swell up through every cell of her body. "You are my husband. My lover. It doesn't matter if your name is Nathan, Noah, or hey fucking you, you are my my lover. My soul. My heart. ↗
Strigoi have red eyes, " I explained. "Do his eyes look red?" The boy leaned forward. "No. They're brown. " "What else do you know about Strigoi?" I asked. "They have fangs like us, " the boy replied. "Do you have fangs?" I asked Dimitri in a singsong voice. I had a feeling this was already-covered territory, but it took on a new feel when asked from a child's perspective. Dimitri smiled--a full, wonderful smile that caught me off guard. "Okay, Jonathan, " said his mother anxiously. "You asked. Let's go now. " "Strigoi are super strong, " continued Jonathan, who possibly aspired to be a future lawyer. "Nothing can hurt them. " Jonathan fixed Dimitri with a piercing gaze. "Are you super strong? Can you be hurt?" "Of course I can, " replied Dimitri. "I'm strong, but all sorts of things can still hurt me. " And then, being Rose Hathaway, I said something I really shouldn't have to the boy. "You should go punch him and find out. " Jonathan's mother screamed again, but he was a fast little bastard, eluding her grasp. He ran up to Dimitri before anyone could stop him--well, I could have--and pounded his tiny fist against Dimitri's knee. Then, with the same reflexes that allowed him to dodge enemy attacks, Dimitri immediately feinted falling backward, as though Jonathan had knocked him over. Clutching his knee, Dimitri groaned as though he were in terrible pain. Several people laughed, and by then, one of the other guardians had caught hold of Jonathan and returned him to his near-hysterical mother. As he was being dragged away, Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at Dimitri. "He doesn't seem very strong to me. I don't think he's a Strigoi. " This caused more laughter ↗
