93 Quotes About Rowan-whitethorn

The three others whirled for Rowan, and there was nothing he could do to get to that fuse.To save the queen who held his heart in her scarred hands.

Rowan just asked, “Did you have a favorite form?”Lysandra's grin was nothing short of wicked. “I liked anything with claws and big, big fangs.

His lips crushed into hers and and he said dropping words more precious than rubies and emeralds and sapphires into her heart, her soul, 'I love you. There is no limit to what I can give you, no time I need. Even when this world is forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.

Behind her, the Fae warrior observed every flicker of movement. He'd be the deadly one--the one to look out for. It had been fifty years since she'd fought a Fae warrior. Bedded him, then fought him. He'd left the bones of her arm in pieces. She'd just left him in pieces. But he had been young, and arrogant, and barely trained. This male... He might very well be capable of killing at least a few of her Thirteen if she so much as harmed a hair on the queen's head.

I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you>

Maeve had lied. Or lied by omission. But she knew. She knew what the girl had gone through-knew she'd been a slave. That day-that day early on, he'd threatened to whip the girl, gods above. And she had lost it. He'd been such a proud fool that he'd assumed she'd lashed out because she was nothing more than a child. He should have known better-should have known that when she did react to something like that, it meant the scars went deep. And then there were the other things he'd said...

Windows ­were shuttered as they passed, probably because of Rowan, who looked like nothing short of death incarnate. But he was surprisingly calm with the villagers they approached. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t snarl, didn’t threaten. He didn’t smile, but for Rowan, he was downright cheerful.

Primal anger sharpened in his gut, brimming with a territorial, possessive need. Not a need for her, but a need to portect--a male's duty and honor.

He'd never realized how precious the calm moments were.