欧宝娱乐

“Then, slowly, like the sunrise peeking over the horizon, she smiled.
She snapped the box closed.
She didn鈥檛 scream. She didn鈥檛 run. She didn鈥檛 faint.
There might have been a little crying.
But mostly鈥� she danced.”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“What? Just because I can't have you right now, doesn't mean I'm okay with him having you.”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“Bliss, I don鈥檛 normally do things like that. But I was second-guessing everything about coming here, and you were everything I needed. I don鈥檛 know how many times I鈥檝e stopped myself from coming over here and knocking on your door. And yes, seeing you with Cade was definitely motivation, but more than that... I just like you, Bliss. As a teacher. As a person. As a guy.”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“She said she wanted my best line tomorrow after the show, and now I knew what it was going to be.”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“Phaedra keeps saying she's being selfish. That she hates herself for it, but she does it anyway. She can't deny herself what she wants, even if it brings about her downfall and his." "And have you learned anything from our literary parallel?" "Not really, I keep thinking that she would do it all over again if there were a chance...a chance that it could go right. Even if 99 times out of a 100 the story ends badly, it's worth it if only once she gets a happy ending.”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“Do me a favor? Be a gentleman tomorrow?”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“I hoped she would love me as much as I loved her.”
― Cora Carmack, Losing It

“You're not going to want to see him. Not tonight, Sorrengail.' Garrick warns with a grimace. 'Self-preservation is a thing. Notice we're not with him, and we're his best friends.'

'Yeah, well, I'm his...' I open my mouth and shut it a few times because... fuck if I know what I am to him. But the longing that holds my heart hostage, this driving need to be at his side because I know he's suffering, no matter if it means throwing myself headfirst into uncertainty... I can't deny what he is to me. I kick off the leather slippers of my dress uniform- they're more of a hazard than anything, and in this wind? Well, we'll see how it goes. 'I'm just... his.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“You're all fucking dead.' His voice is eerily calm and all the scarier for it.

Every head in the room turns.

'Riorson!' Orsen's dagger clatters to the floor.

'You think surrendering will save you?' Xaden's lethally soft tone sends goose bumps up my arms. 'It is against our code to attack another rider in their sleep.'

'But you know he never should have bonded her!' Orsen puts his hands up, his palms facing us. 'You of all people have reason enough to want the weakling dead. We're just correcting a mistake.'

'Dragons don't make mistakes.' Xaden's shadows grab every assailant but Orsen by the throat, then constrict. They struggle, but it doesn't matter. Their faces turn people, the shadows holding tight as they sag to their knees, falling in an arc in front of me like lifeless puppets.

I can't find it in my head to pity them.

Xaden prowls forward as though he has all the time in the world and holds out his palm as yet another tendril of darkness lifts my discarded dagger from the floor.

'Let me explain.' Orsen eyes the dagger, and his hands tremble.

'I've heard everything I need to hear.' Xaden's fingers curl around the hilt. 'She should have killed you in the field, but she's merciful. That's not a flaw I possess.' He slashes forward so quickly that I barely catch the move, and Oren's throat opens in a horizontal line, blood streaming down his neck and chest in a torrent.

He grabs for his throat, but it's useless. He bleeds out in seconds, crumpling to the floor. A crimson puddle grows around him.

'Damn, Xaden,' Garrick walks in, sheathing his sword as his gazes rakes over the room. 'No time for questioning?' His glance sweeps to me as if cataloguing injuries, catching on my throat.

'No need for it,' Xaden counters...”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“I can't save everyone, especially not someone who isn't willing to save themselves.'

'Damn, Xaden,' Garrick rubs the bridge of his nose. 'Way to give a pep talk.'

'If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they're not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day. Let's get real. I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable.' He turns his head, and I can only assume he's looking at the panicked first-year. 'In war, people die. It's not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It's snapped necks and two-hundreds-foot falls. There's nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulphur. This'- he gestures back toward the citadel- 'isn't some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It's hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home... to whatever's left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant.' He leans forward slightly. 'So if you won't get your shirt together and fight to live, then no. You're not going to make it.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing