The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #13)

by J.R. Ward

Humans: Nature’s remedy for an otherwise good time.

He would have squandered this, as a rich male would let diamonds fall from his pockets simply because he had bowls of them back home. Rarity went hand in hand with reverence.

Personally, Rhage had always thought the poor bastard was suffering from Phury Syndrome—a condition whereupon one brother was so fucked-up that the other fell into a black hole trying to save him.

“You want to know what death is! I’ll tell you what it is—death is the living forgetting you! What you smell like and look like, what your voice sounds like, how you laugh! Even if there is an afterlife, my death is going to be you going on without me until you can’t remember what color my eyes are or how long my hair is—”

Both of the healers said all the right, caring things, reaching out and touching her hands, her shoulders—and she really appreciated the contact. It made her feel as if she weren’t some machine they were fixing from a distance, but someone they loved and cared about.

They sat side by side in silence—because sometimes that was all you could do for someone you loved: There were paths that had to be walked alone. And that just sucked.

There was no tracking the precise words, but there probably weren’t any. Sometimes language couldn’t go far enough. All you could do was scream.