More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
There was no guarantee of safety or survival either way. But hope was a tricky thing.
Unlike Ryder, I cried all the time. I cried when Leigh made me laugh too hard. I cried when I saw my mother in pain. I cried at the end of a great book, or when I heard a beautiful harmony. I cried when I lost a patient at the infirmary. I cried when I felt overwhelmed. It was the least brave quality—to be sensitive and fearful and full of tears.
“Firstly, you may call me Kane. King Ravenwood is a little formal from someone I’ve made blush as many times as you.”
I was furious with the man. So, so furious. But I also wanted to lick his neck. It was complicated.
“It’s only fair. I’ve stared at you. Most of the time, I can’t seem to look at anything else.”
“You’re very good at that.” “Good at what?” “Relentless positivity.” Humor twitched at my lips. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” “There is nothing more valuable in a world as dark as ours.”
“But if I recall, I’m ‘not exactly your type’?” His face twisted, dark brows pulling in. “I’m not sure what ever compelled me to say that.” “I think I had insulted you.” “Ah, one of the many attractive things you do so well.”