1,081 Quotes by Christine Feehan

Solidarity. She was with him. She would be with him through whatever he had to endure. He had that.

Just talking about it made his leg hurt even worse. He smelled the gunpowder. The stench of blood and death. Heard the beat of helicopter rotors. The bark of Rubin's gun. So precise. So deadly. The pain of his shattered bone.

He forced air through his lungs and with it, brought in the scent of Amaryllis. The moment he took her in, his world changed. Lightened. She could do that, without doing more than existing.

Never had any trouble distinguishing between a varmint and a gentleman. Where I come from, we get rid of the varmints.

He wasn't like some of his fellow GhostWalkers, who seemed to walk into a room and have half the female population enthralled--and that had nothing to do with their enhancements and everything to do with their good looks, charisma, or both, none of which he had.

No matter what, the living came first.

Malichai knew there wasn't much to see, other than he was combat-hardened. His experience showed in the lines in his face, in the calm he displayed under all conditions and the flat, cold look in his eyes.

Malichai had grown up fierce, using his fists, learning every form of underhanded street-fighting known to man, and he'd learned it was life or death. He'd chosen life.

She was beautiful all riled up. His heart was going a little crazy and all at once he felt very much alive. Maybe this vacation thing wasn't going to be so bad.