You're not honey. Your'e wine. You're the deepest, darkest shadow under a tree on a blazing day. You're strong and hard, coursing like a current at the bottom of a river.
Cate TiernanI was of the “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, then wonder why life didn’t give you freaking sugar so you could drink the stuff” school of thought.
Cate TiernanOver my dead body, I thought. Yes, even immortals use that phrase. It has extra oomph for us.
Cate TiernanI felt an overwhelming gratitude in my life right now and wanted a chance to acknowledge it. I felt that any thanks given to any god all went to the same place, anyway, no matter what religion you were centered in.
Cate TiernanHe gave a hard smile and the oxygen in my lungs evaporated. “We both know I’m not a gentleman.” “Yeah. Okay, let me out. I’m tired.” “There’s something else,” he said, and I groaned. “What now?” “This.” He stepped closer to me, so close that the containers were sandwiched between us. His eyes looked down into mine, intent and golden, like a lion. “Oh, no, you don’t!” I hissed, dropping everything. I pushed hard against his chest; it was like shoving a tree. “Yes,” he said very softly, leaning down. “Yes, I do.
Cate Tiernan