Helfyre Quotes

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Helfyre (Agía Sahnta, #1) Helfyre by Mariel Pomeroy
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Helfyre Quotes Showing 1-26 of 26
“Don't believe the truths told to you by the light. The brightness you're used to casts the most vicious of shadows.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“You’re not broken, your soul simply demanded room to grow”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“When you’re stretching yourself around those pretty little fingers pretending they’re mine, I’ll know about it.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Maybe his people had left him too, maybe that was another rotten thing that lived inside of them both–a thing so broken and heavy that others couldn’t bear it. Aheia was used to others leaving. Everyone always left. And for some reason, pretending it was something buried deep in her genetics made it feel less like her fault.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Show me that helfyre tonight, little goddess. But more importantly, show them,” he said.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“The blood of the covenant you chose over the water of the womb you were born from.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“But none of it worked”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Show me that helfyre tonight, little goddess. But more importantly, show them.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Violence from beautiful creatures,” he said, flourishing his hand and retrieving a needle and thread from somewhere inside his shadows. Then he leaned over, just as he dropped the two things in her small hands, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “. . . is one of the things I like.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“If you’re going to hurt me, you’d better look me in the fucking eyes when you do it.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Don’t be greedy, little goddess,” he chided. “You’ll get just as much as I want to give you.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“The blood of the covenant you chose over the water of the womb you were born from. She almost grinned to herself. No one used the saying correctly—most thought it meant the opposite. Emryn”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“All I know is that for all the prayer I see in this world, the poor become poorer, and conflict amongst us thickens each day.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“We’re all broken, Aheia. It’s what gives us strength. Only the broken can grow.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“those who were hand-fed safety would never need to learn to lick it from blades as she did.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Don’t believe the truths told to you by the light. The brightness you’re used to casts the most vicious of shadows.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“He wanted to see what it looked like when she truly begged, and imagined it would be so fucking pretty.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“he heard a soft noise—not quite a whimper, not quite a groan—but every bit of it enticing. He wanted to see her face the next time she made a sound like that.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“She was met with a stare that spoke of burnt secrets and gray ash, eyes that were flecked with embers, dark and angry. His gaze felt like a touch, like the rough slide of hands against her skin and the promise of tight grips and harsh words.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“There had been so much blood in her short life, the good tainted by the bad long ago. It left her unable to separate the memories she held close to her heart from the looming darkness and frigid ice she carried in her veins.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“because acceptance of death was what preceded surrender.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Maz seemed to be made for the dead.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Death’s flower doesn’t belong in the outside world. It belongs in mine.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“She looked back at the reflection that seemed to be judging her, laying out all of her flaws in front of her, and plucking them like they were strings on an instrument. And, fuck, if she knew how to play.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“If she truly was his toy, his pet, his thing, she should have felt lesser. But when she looked up at him, and those eyes burned watching her and only her, she felt seen and fucking powerful instead.”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
“Excuse the fuck out of me,” Lúc snapped...”
Mariel Pomeroy, Helfyre
tags: humor