You forgot another lesson: Never turn your back until you know your enemy is dead. Looks like we’ll have to go over the lesson again the next time I see you—which will be soon. Love, D.
Richelle MeadYou'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.
Richelle MeadI left her there crying as I walked toward the gate. A piece of my soul had died when Dimitri had fallen. Turning my back on her now, I felt another piece die as well. Soon there wouldn't be anything left inside me.
Richelle MeadʺWhy,ʺ he began slowly, ʺis Victor Dashkov joining us?ʺ ʺWell, itʹs kind of a funny story . . .ʺ
Richelle MeadMy muse is an ungrateful harlot who’s abandoned me to actually come up with my own plots.
Richelle MeadJohn Cusack is standing over there.” I followed his incredulous gaze to where a man very like Mr. Cusack did indeed stand, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against a building. I sighed. “That’s not John Cusack. That’s Jerome.” “Seriously?” “Yup. I told you he looked like John Cusack.” “Keyword: looked. That guy doesn’t look like him. That guy is him.
Richelle Mead