Quotes from Christine Feehan

Keep making fun of my name and every time you order a drink, I'm going to put something in it you won't like

His shadow and hers had become entangled in spite of his efforts to keep them apart. Although, truthfully, he hadn't tried that hard. He knew if she rejected him, the consequences to him would be dire.

her mouth curved into that smile that always teased every one of his senses. Amusement. She could feel it and give him that sense of playfulness and joy that she seemed to have in abundance.

You are a good man, Mikhail." She grinned impishly, her blue eyes teasing. "You just have too much power for your own good. But don't worry, I know this American girl. She's very disrespectful, and she'll take all that arrogant starch out of you.

Why is it I always get in very inappropriate conversations with you? Sweet god in heaven, woman, you're the bane of my life

His hands framed her face again, his amber eyes alive with love, with tenderness. I want to make a vow to you. I'll love you with everything in me. I'll bring you as much happiness as I can give you. But I cannot allow your death, not at my hands. You're more important than I am.

She kissed him, her body molding to his, and in his mind her beautiful voice rose in song just for him. The notes skipped from his mind to the sky, silver and gold notes of joy and happiness, of courage and admiration. She sang of love between two people, sacred and beautiful. She sang of peace and happiness. Her hands moved over him possessively, lovingly, checking his body for wounds. Her warrior was home. Whatever

Patience is the warrior's true weapon - a thousand patient breaths bring victory.

He needed a woman strong enough to accept that he would always need his ropes. They anchored him. Centered him. The moment he touched them, those dark shifting shadows inside him subsided.

His body was settling over hers, his knee nudging her thighs apart so he could press against her soft, welcoming body. "I think you should just stay naked and waiting for me," he growled, stroking her to ensure her readiness.

Damn it, Ken. I'm so fucking in love with her. This isn't part of Whitney's experiment; he couldn't make me feel like this no matter what he planted between us.

And right at this moment, Ken, you're protecting what I hold most dear. I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done this day.

To the rest of the world, she was samurai, to Sam, she was love.

Vittorio had recognized early on he had a gift. His voice could be compelling, or commanding, and those in a room reacted to it. He could calm others down, arouse or infuriate, all with his tone.

Fuck no, he wasn't saving her. [...] he was keeping her for himself.

In his quest to find the perfect supersoldier, he experimented on the girls and when he thought he perfected what he was looking for, he psychically and genetically enhanced the soldiers in his GhostWalker program.

Every soldier needs a commander and it looks like I'm yours. You're a soldier. You need a commander. What makes you the boss? I'm bigger than you are, Draden said, his voice just a little arrogant. Shylah refrained from answering. What was the point? He was bigger.

The first touch of her hands nearly had him coming off the bed in alarm. Her eyes were closed, but her hands lay against his skin lightly, palms down. Every muscle in his body tightened. Every cell responded to her touch. The feel of her skin against his skin took his breath away. He'd felt a woman's hand on his body many times, strokes and caresses meant to inflame him, to arouse him, yet not a single one had ever affected him the way her touch did.

I know," he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. "What are we going to do now?" A slow smile curved his mouth. "I really expected you to kill me so I wouldn't have to figure that part out.

Soleil. Sunshine. Yeah. He could see that.

He learned to always keep his hands steady. It didn't matter how much blood was in the room, or who was giving orders, or if he knew what was coming, he'd learned absolute control. Absolute.

She had thrown his life into complete confusion, but she made him smile. Made him want to laugh. Intrigued him. Turned him inside out. Gave him a reason to live.

Still, he knew this ritual, for Azami, was much more. She was giving herself to him, declaring herself, in her own way, to be his. That he was her choice. However she treated him in public, without expression, no hand holding, no kissing, there would be this behind closed doors. To the rest of the world, she was samurai, to Sam, she was love.

I cannot lie to you," he whispered. "You know my thoughts. You know the beast that dwells inside. I try to be gentle with you, to listen to you. Always that wildness breaks free, but you tame me. Raven, please, I need you. And you need me. Your body is weak, I can feel your hunger. Your mind is fragmented--allow me to heal you. Your body cries out for mine as mine does for yours. Kiss me, Raven. Do not give up on us.