Bloodfever (Fever Series #2)

by Karen Marie Moning

It’s our actions that define us. What we choose. What we resist. What we’re willing to die for.

People treat you as badly as you let them treat you. Key word there: let.

When everything else is gone, balls are all any of us really have left. The question is: Are yours made of flesh and blood, or steel?

“One day you may kiss a man you can’t breathe without, and find breath is of little consequence.”

Hope is a critical thing. Without it, we are nothing. Hope shapes the will. The will shapes the world.

There are only shades of gray. Black and white are nothing more than lofty ideals in our minds, the standards by which we try to judge things, and map out our place in the world in relevance to them. Good and evil, in their purest form, are as intangible and forever beyond our ability to hold in our hand as any Fae illusion. We can only aim at them, aspire to them, and hope not to get so lost in the shadows that we can no longer aim for the light.

“The one who will never let you die, and that’s more, Ms. Lane, than anyone in your life has ever been able to say to you. More than anyone else can do.”