The House with the Golden Door (Wolf Den Trilogy, #2)

by Elodie Harper

Man alone of living creatures has been given grief… and likewise ambition, greed and a boundless lust for living.

All the words he uses to describe her – lovely, delicate, naive – she takes as instructions rather than compliments. It doesn’t matter that she worked in a brothel, that she outwitted the most violent pimp in Pompeii, or that she could move mountains with her rage. This is not what her lover wants to see, so she hides it all.

Who’d be a slave, eh? When you’re young they fuck you, and when you’re old they fuck you over.

I’ve never been so foolish in my young life, I swear, Or done one thing that I’ve regretted more, Than going from you last night and leaving you alone, Trying to hide how desperately I love you.

“You really love me.” It is hard to tell, with a whisper, if he is asking a question or stating the obvious. “No,” Amara replies, holding him even tighter. “I can’t stand you.”

“Death is Nature’s gift. It’s better to know that suffering ends. Once we accept this life is all we have, we can make better use of it.”

He always said there was no book so bad that some good could not be got out of it.

Whoever loves, let him flourish Let him perish who knows not love Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love

‘To little people, the gods will always give little.’

“No. That was my name. So I think it’s rather obvious why I couldn’t keep it.” Amara turns to face him, struggling to shift herself with the weight of her belly. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. You’re right – it’s not a terrible question to ask. I just don’t have a happy answer to give you.” “I only asked because I know Philos was…” She stops, not wanting to make things worse by mentioning the man who abused him for so many years. “Terentius gave Greek names to all his favourites. I suppose I should be grateful another boy was already stuck with Eros, though I always hated Philos, at least until I met you. Now I quite enjoy hearing you call me beloved in your own language.” Amara kisses him, and he smooths his thumb against her cheek. “Sometimes, I think about when our child is older, when we won’t be able to be like this anymore, because we will have to pretend, even in the house, that I’m nothing to you. And when that happens, you can still tell me you love me, every time you say my name.”

Show me a man who isn’t a slave; one is a slave to sex, another to money, another to ambition; all are slaves to hope or fear.

But tears cannot put out the flame; They inflame the face and melt the spirit

only way to survive is to bury the pain, and to keep walking, wherever Fortune leads.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have discarded her so easily. There is always a price to pay for underestimating a woman.”