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Quote by Christine Feehan

“You just want mixed blood because you took one look at a certain woman and all brain matter went dead,” Fen accused. Zev didn’t open his eyes or stop feeding. She did make an impression.”

Quote by Christine Feehan

Work

Dark Wolf

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Author

Christine Feehan
Christine Feehan

Christine Feehan is a renowned American author known for her romance novels. Her works are characterized by strong emotions, complex characters, and captivating plots. Feehan's writing spans multiple series, including the Dragon Knight Series and the Dark Guardians Series, which have gained her a large fan base. more

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“Zev nodded. He smiled up at Tatijana as she came to his side. “It’s good to see you,” he greeted her. “Thanks for saving us out there.” She smiled back at him and sank down into the grass, taking his arm to inspect the damage. “It’s getting to be a habit. We can’t have anyone killing you, Zev. My sister wouldn’t be too pleased. She’s hoping to get another dance with you sometime.” “She probably doesn’t remember my name,” Zev said. “But it’s kind of you to say so.” Tatijana laughed. “Silly man. Your name is probably the only one she does remember. She’s not very social.” Fen gave a small derisive snort. “The lengths you go to, getting yourself hurt just for a little female sympathy. You know, Tatijana, he really is far faster than he lets on and he could have prevented the knife from slicing him open. He was just hoping your sister would show up and kiss it all better.” Zev sent him a warning glare. “I’m still armed to the teeth, you bastard.”

“Reaching into his sporran, he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in fine linen. “I want to give ye somethin’, somethin’I want ye to wear this day.”Carefully, he unfolded the linen and held his hand out to her. Josephine’s eyes widened with curiosity and joy. “’Tis beautiful, Graeme!” “It be a brooch that each MacAulay lad receives when he turns six and ten. I want ye to have it.” Josephine carefully took it and studied it closely. Made of pewter, in the center of the brooch were two hands, one decidedly masculine, the other feminine. The masculine hand held the feminine hand in his palm. In the center of her palm was a tiny ruby. To one side, the circle had been engraved to look like stars twinkling near a crescent moon. On the other were the words aeterna devotione. Eternal devotion. Tears filled her eyes as she looked into his. “Ye want me to have this?” “Aye, I do, Joie,”he said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Me great-great-great grandfather presented a brooch just like this to his wife, me great-great-great grandmum. But no’until the first anniversary of their weddin’day. ’Twas a symbol of the great love they had found with one another. ’Tis tradition for the MacAulay men to only give their brooch to a woman who has stolen their heart, a woman they love and trust above all else.” Tears trailed down her cheeks, her heart beating so rapidly she was certain it would burst through her breastbone at any moment. “I do no’quite understand how it happened, or how it happened so quickly, Joie, but it has. Amorem in corde meo ut arctius coccino colloeandus arctius ideo astra,”Graeme said first in Latin and then again in Gaelic, “Toisc go bhfuil do ghrá eitseáilte isteach i mo chroí i corcairdhearg, mar sin tá sé eitseáilte amonst na réaltaí.”He placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “As yer love be etched into me heart in crimson, so it be etched amongst the stars,”he told her. “As me grandda said those words to me grandmum all those many years ago, I say them to ye.”

“It was not, however, to these Fascist groups, numerically unimportant as they were, that the Third Republic owed its collapse. On the contrary, the plain, if paradoxical, truth is that their influence was never so slight as at the moment when the collapse actually took place. What made France fall was the fact that she had no more true Dreyfusards, no one who believed that democracy and freedom, equality and justice could any longer be defended or realized under the republic.”