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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I feel Sel’s gaze on the back of my neck, on my cheek, before I hear his voice. “Mae hi’n brydferth.” “What?” I ask. Nick turns when I do, just as confused. Arthur’s memories don’t recognize modern Welsh, and I only know a little. I do recognize the words for “she” and “beautiful” though. Or maybe Nick isn’t just as confused as me, because a slow, laughing smile spreads across his face, like he understands Sel’s game already. He leans a hip against the wall to watch me beside his Kingsmage, eyes teasing. “Ydi, mae hi. Yn dragwyddol.” Maybe that last word was “forever.” “Beautiful forever”? No, “always”? I flush, then pout. “Because of Arthur, I’m only fluent in Old Welsh, not modern. You know this isn’t fair.” “We know,” they respond together, and laugh.”

“I feel shock splinter through him, his body going rigid. Then he relaxes, melting into me, stepping forward until I am caught between him and the wall, the torch crackling beside me. His hands slide down my back, over my hips and thighs, leaving a trail of fire. His heart beats fast enough for the both of us, its thunderous pulse echoing through me. I bury my hands in his dark hair, fingers knotting around those thick locks. Desire pulls at my stomach, and I lean into him, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist. He lifts me, and my other leg coils around him, my skirts sliding up my thighs, my back pressed against the column. His lips are soft and warm and gentle, underlined with barely restrained urgency. I cannot get enough of him. I pull his kurta over his head and let it fall on the floor. I press my hands against his bared chest, feel his heart against my palm, his lungs rising and falling. His shoulder is knotted with the scar from the arrow he took for me. He kisses me again, this time more strongly, and I run my hands down his jaw and neck, over his shoulders, the taut muscles of his back. He turns, without letting me go or breaking our kiss, and we tumble onto the soft divan. Aladdin holds himself over me, his abdomen clenched and his hair hanging across his forehead. His lips wander downward, to my chin, to the curve of my jaw, to my neck. My hands are ravenous, exploring the planes and angles of his body. His fingers find mine, and our hands knit together. He raises them over my head, pressing them into the pillow beneath my hair, as his kisses trace my collarbone, and then he sinks lower, parting the buttons of my dress and pressing his lips to my bare stomach. I gasp and open my eyes wide, my borrowed body coursing with sensations I have never felt, never dared to feel, never thought I could feel. “Aladdin,” I murmur. “We shouldn’t . . .” “Sh.” He silences me with a kiss, and I lift my chin to meet him. A warm wind rushes through my body, stirring embers and setting them aflame. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to think about consequences. I only want Aladdin, everywhere.”

“I feel sick. Ashamed. Still scared. He’s not gonna believe me. He’s gonna twist it until it lines up with the way he sees the world, and then this impossible thing between us will crack and shrivel and die. There’s something worse than sneaking away and never seeing him again. It’s cowering in this room, telling him the truth, watching him weigh up the value of people and their word, and living through the exact moment when he ranks me less than. It’s keeping my head up while he breaks my heart, and I’m already wrung out and so damn tired. I don’t know where to find the strength. But I will. I’ve picked myself up off the floor before. It’s cold comfort, but it’s enough. He’s turned his back on me before. I survived then. I’ll survive now.”

“I feel simply carried along each hour, doing my part in a plan which is far beyond myself. […] My part is to live this hour in continuous inner conversation with God and in perfect responsiveness to His will. This seems to be all I need to think about.”

“I feel so alone. Shame survives by convincing me I am alone. Whether my pain was caused by my bad decision or whether something tragic happened to me, shame is loud in my head. All of God’s promises that I know do not quiet this shame. Shame feels comforting when I feel so helpless. Because it is easier to feel shame than it is to feel helpless. Shame is something I think I have control over. Except shame lies.”