Arms wrapped around his neck, she kissed his temple. "I'm sorry I scared you." It wasn't the done thing for an archangel to admit fear, but he was hers, and she'd hurt him without meaning to; it was up to her to fix her mistake. His wings shifted, but he didn't extricate their bodies. "I didn't know fear until you, Elena. Use the power wisely.

I will fight you endlessly if I think you're wrong but I will never judge you.

He couldn’t say the words, had spent too long in Silence, but he’d learned other ways to speak. Taking the paperweight she’d knocked off her desk out of his pocket, he put it in her hands. “It’s fixed. As long as you don’t mind more than a few scars.

Life changes us. To wish otherwise is pointless.

The one and only time an archangel can Make another angel is when our bodies produce a substance known as ambrosia. Ambrosia,is produced instinctively at a single point in an archangel’s life. It is legend that ambrosia only rises when an archangel loves true.

Taking a sip of the hot chocolate he'd made her, she met his gaze, those eerie eyes of endless black impenetrable, unreadable. "Max?" "Yes?" "Will you remember me?" His heart broke into a thousand pieces. "Always.

After they were both done, the pile of knives and guns on the coffee table looked like they’d cleaned out an armory. “I think we have a problem, Dmitri.