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Sarah J. Maas

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“Hunt hissed to Bryce through his gritted teeth, thunder cracking above him, 'I heard what you said.' Pump, pump, pump went his powerful arms. 'What you waited to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward.' His lightning surged into her, sending her body arcing off the ground as he tried to jump-start her heard. He snarled in her ear. 'Now come say it to my face.”

“What is it you want, exactly?' Hunt asked, surveying a stall full of ancient knives. 'A boyfriend or mate or husband who will just sit there, with no opinions, and agree to everything you say, and never dare to ask you for anything?' 'Of course not.' 'Just because I'm male and have an opinion doesn't make me into some psychotic, domineering prick.”

“It's almost out," the witch hissed, grunting with effort. "Hang on, Bryce." She did. To Hunt, to his hand, to that softness in his eyes, she held on. With all she had. "I've got you," he murmured. "Sweetheart, I've got you." He'd never said it like that before- that word. It had always been mocking, teasing. She'd always found it just this side of annoying. Not this time. Not when he held her hand and her gaze and everything she was. Riding out the pain with her. "Breathe," he ordered her. "You can do it. We can get through this." Get through it- together. Get through this mess of a life together. Through this mess of a world.”

“Ruhn asked, "Why the fuck where you standing on the Black Dock after sundown?" "I was kneeling," she muttered. "Same fucking question." She met her brother's gaze as her wounds healed shut. "I needed a breather." Flynn crossed his arms. "I said I've known that you're a princess for all of an hour and you're already a pain in my ass." "I am not a princess," she said at the same moment Ruhn snapped, "She's not a princess.”

“Those look like broken ribs," Hunt said wryly. "Definitely broken ribs, Athalar," Bryce replied, sitting back on her heels. "And a broken arm, from the way he's cradling it." "Skull fracture's healed," Hunt observed with equal distance, as if they were on one of his favorite Vanir crime show procedurals. Ithan's eyes flashed again. "I'm sensing hostility and a good dose of male pride," Bryce said. "Throw in some stubbornness and I'd say we've got a classic case of stupidity," Hunt answered. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?" Ithan demanded.”

“Declan said, "Can we pause for a moment and remark on the fact that both of you have spoken to the Prince of the Pit? Is no one else about to puke at the thought?" Ruhn held up a hand, and Tharion lazily lifted one from the bench, but Bryce high-fived Hunt. "Special kids club," she said to the angel, who winked at her.”

“He said after a while, "You traded your resting place in the Bone Quarter for Danika's." "Given what happens to everyone over there, I feel kind of relieved about that now." "Yeah." He took one of her hands in his and laid their interlaced fingers atop his heart. "But wherever you're headed when this life is over, Quinlan, that's where I want to be, too.”

“It'd be safer not to go at all, but here we are, going," Hunt said. Ruhn wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself as the angel crossed the room and knelt before Bryce, grabbing her hands. "I want a future with you. That's why I'm going. I'm going to fight for that future." His sister's eyes softened. Hunt kissed her hands. "And to do so, we can't play by other people's rules.”

“Bryce's face crumpled as she lurched to her feet, sprinting to the Gate. She didn't care how it was possible as Danika said again, "Light it up" Then Bryce was laughing and sobbing as she screamed, "LIGHT IT UP, DANIKA! LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP!" Bryce slammed her palm onto the bronze disk of the Gate. And soul to soul with the friend whom she had not forgotten, the friend who had not forgotten her, even in death, Bryce made the Drop.”

“No issue with the Umbra Mortis being your emotional twin?' But her face grew serious again. 'That's what they call you, but that's not who you are.' 'And who am I?' 'A pain in my ass.' Her smile was brighter than the setting sun on the river. He laughed, but she added. 'You're my friend. Who watches trashy TV with me and puts up with my shit. You're the person I don't need to explain myself to- not when it matters. You see everything I am, and you don't run away from it.”