Can you come over to Amberwood? I need you to help me break curfew and escape my dorm.”
There were a few moments of silence. “Sage, I’ve been waiting two months to hear you say those words. You want me to bring a ladder?
Tags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
You're my flame in the dark. We chase away the shadows around each other.
Richelle MeadTags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be here at all. And really, this is pretty good for four White Russians.”
“White what?” I almost sat down but was afraid the chair might dematerialize beneath me.
“It’s a drink,” he said. “You’d think I wouldn’t be into something named that—you know, considering my own personal experience with Russians. But they’re surprisingly delicious. The drinks, not real Russians.
Tags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
I certainly hadn't expected to walk away from today's trip with joint custody of a miniature dragon.
Richelle MeadTags: funny adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
I'm done with the pouting," he said. "Done with being moody—well, I mean, I'm always a little moody. That's what Adrian Ivashkov's all about. But I'm done with the excessive stuff. That didn't get me anywhere with Rose. It won't get me anywhere with you."
"Nothing will get you anywhere with me," I exclaimed.
"I don't know about that." He put on an introspective look that was both unexpected and intruiging. "You're not as much of a lost cause as she was. I mean, with her, I had to overcome her deep, epic love with a Russian warlord. You and I just have to overcome hundreds of years' worth of deeply ingrained prejudice and taboo between our two races. Easy.
Tags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
The future of our relationship hinged on advice from a fifteen-year old girl, a probably untrue story from a one-eyed Chihuahua trainer, and me unromantically – yet skillfully – kissing you on top of silverware and china?
Richelle MeadTags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
Any life worth living is going to have risks
Richelle MeadTags: to-remember sydney-sage jill-mastrano
You might want to do something about your neck.”
I was totally lost. “My neck?”
She reached into her purse and handed me a compact mirror. I opened it and surveyed my neck, still trying to figure out what she could be talking about. Then I saw it. A small, brownish purple bruise on the side of my neck.
“What on earth is that?” I exclaimed.
Ms. Terwilliger snorted. “Although it’s been a while for me, I believe the technical term is a hickey” She paused and arched an eyebrow. “You do know what that is, don’t you?”
“Of course I know!” I lowered the mirror. “But there’s no way—I mean, we barely—that is—”
She held up a hand to silence me. “You don’t have to justify your private life to me. But you might want to consider how you can actually keep it private in the next fifteen minutes.
Tags: sydney-sage ms-terwilliger
Metaphors. This was the cost of making out with an artist.
Richelle MeadTags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage
You can think whatever you want, do whatever you want. I'm going to just go on loving you, even if it's hopeless.
Richelle MeadTags: adrian-ivashkov sydney-sage the-indigo-spell sydrian bloodlines-series
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