He’s the kind of man who if you gave him a gun and told him he had two choices—“shoot one of your dogs or shoot yourself in the head”—he’d put the gun to his ear and pull the trigger.”
“Hell, Jules, you’d do the same thing if someone did that to you and your goddamned cats,” Blake said in amusement.
“No,” Julian murmured with a shake of his head. “No, there’s a third option. People like us, we’re third-option people. We take the gun, stuff it in the person’s mouth, and eliminate the problem. Walk off into the sunset with our kitty.
Mots clés blake julian cameron
The fork was invented sometime in the fifteenth century, I believe.”
“Really?” she asked. “Were you there?”
His features blank, he looked up and asked, “What, for the invention of the fork or the fifteenth century?
Mots clés julian
I want to be inside you so badly, Grace,” he whispered. “I want to feel your legs wrapped around me, feel your breasts against my chest, hear you moaning as I make slow, sweet love to you. I want your smell on my body, your breath on my skin.
Sherrilyn KenyonMots clés julian
I waited two thousand years for you, Grace Alexander,” he whispered in her ear. “And you were worth every second of it.
Sherrilyn KenyonMots clés julian
You're a dirty bastard"
"Are you complaining?"
"No
This is the strange way of the world, that people who simply want to love are instead forced to become warriors.
Lauren OliverMots clés delirium alex julian lena lauren-oliver requiem
If I weren't out of my mind at this second, I would've sworn he nuzzled my temple.
Piper ShellyMots clés angel julian her-game-his-rules jona
Stop kidding me, angel!
Piper ShellyMots clés angels julian her-game-his-rules jona
Raven looks at me. “What about you, Lena?”
I can feel Alex’s eyes on me. My mouth is so dry; the sun is so blinding. I look away, toward the hundreds and hundreds of people who have been driven out of their homes, out of their lives, to this place of dust and dirtiness, all because they wanted the power to feel, to think, to choose for themselves. They couldn’t have known that even this was a lie—that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven’t chosen at all.
But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.
Coral shifts, and moves her hand to Alex’s arm.
“I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.
Mots clés choice julian lena-halloway
They couldn’t have known that even this was a lie—that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven’t chosen at all.
But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.
Mots clés happiness choosing alex julian requiem lena-haloway
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