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Quote by Rick Riordan

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The Blood of Olympus

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Author

Rick Riordan
Rick Riordan

Rick Riordan, born on June 5, 1964, is an American author known for his works that blend mythology and fantasy elements. His most famous series, 'Percy Jackson & the Olympians,' combines Greek mythology with the experiences of modern teenagers. more

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“My body, blood, and soul fumed. I no longer felt the ground under my feet. I couldn’t see anything but him. The very heart in my chest burned and raged and set my skin ablaze. My fingers strained, feeling every spark, ember, and flame even through my bones. Water lined my eyes. “I don’t get what’s between us or what you want. It drives me mad.” “Yeah? And don’t you think I hate it, too?” Laken stumbled back, shaking his head before aiming his glare back at me. Golden locks hung over his face, slightly damp from the rain. His eyes were as stormy as the sky above us and twice as fierce. “It kills me,” he confessed; the muscles in his throat pulsed. Somehow, he’d dwindled the space between us. I could smell the honey and mint. The scent that once lingered on my bedsheets. “It kills me to see you and not touch you. It kills me to hear your voice knowing it won’t say my name like it once did.” Laken looked at me as if I was something more, something to be hurt for. “Being around you kills me.” Each word, a wound. Laken and I both panted, both toeing a dangerous line. Traitorous. Treacherous, even. But still, I pushed further. Straightening my spine, I lifted my chin and scoffed. “Good,” I said, deep and slow. Daring to step closer, only inches remained. “I hope it hurts. I hope you pray for mercy. And I hope it leaves you aching when you go to bed. I will make it my life’s mission to ensure that you are in pain every day for the rest of your life, thinking about me.” Laken devoured the distance parting us, leaving nothing but him and me. My eyes flicked to his lips, as his did to mine. Heart to heart, heat from his chest pummeled into me. I felt him so close, yet not close enough. Never close enough. Never far enough. Our lips were separated by a thin line of love and hate. And that line was beginning to blur. Slowly, torturing ourselves, taunting ourselves, he whispered, “Do your worst.”

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“Every ‘I’m bored’ is an invitation. Not to fix, but to step back and let creativity take the wheel.”

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“I have also found that with bright ideas, the wind outside seems to carry these ideas to me. Is this right my angels? “Yes, you’ve got it in one. Ideas are often carried on the wind, or breeze as a gentle way of giving you a new concept. The wind fairies, the sylphs, help us with this process, making sure that you get the next angel idea on the wind. That is why on some wind free days, particular muggy ones, the air seems oppressive and close. It is also because it is not a good time to get fresh ideas, on the breeze.”

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