Rachel,” came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. “Don’t touch Trenton,” he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, “or I’m going to have to come down there…and smack you around.
Kim HarrisonAs the joke goes, you don’t have to be faster than the wolf chasing you, just faster than everyone else running away.
Kim HarrisonAnd then there are the rare ones who know love, who understand it. Who freely give of themselves, demanding only a return of that love,that trust.
Kim Harrison