Authenticity was the key to any deception. Sometimes authenticity was disgusting.

— Jodi Meadows

Before I had a chance to feel too sorry for myself, I turned toward the front of the cabin and found the bookcases carved right into the wall. Hundreds of leather-bound volumes rested in dim alcoves. I had no idea what stories or information they held. It didn’t matter. I wanted to absorb anything they had to say.

— Jodi Meadows

Breathing in the scent of his hair, I realized I'd needed him my whole life, before we even met. First, his music and the way he taught me through books and recordings. Then, he saved my life and refused to abandon me no matter how much I deserved it.

— Jodi Meadows

But in the hours that were really minutes, he didn't beg me not to leave. He didn't say he hadn't meant it. When I stood, his gaze just followed me up. Then I was a shattered blown-glass blue rose, and every step away from him made my shards clatter and chime.

— Jodi Meadows

I closed my eyes during a flute solo, wishing I could wrap the silvery sound around me like armor.

— Jodi Meadows

I do trust you." I bumped my elbow against his, a pathetic attempt at levity, but he caught me, turned me, and held me in place. We stood dangerously close. "It's myself I don't always trust," I whispered." That's strange." He released my arm and took a step backward. "I trust you, but I don't always trust myself.

— Jodi Meadows

I hate being a teenager."" Why?"" Hormones." With a sad half smile, he left.

— Jodi Meadows

I'll be around my whole life. That's a long time to me.

— Jodi Meadows

I’m going,’ he said, and in the temple light, I caught his determination, and that strength he got from loving me. It made him brave.

— Jodi Meadows

I turned back to the shrike, but the beak of his mask grazed up my neck and warm lips brushed my ear. Thrills coursed through me, but I didn't move until he started away. I caught his hand. "Wait." He'd felt right. I knew who I needed him to be, even if the way we'd danced was not how-That kind of passion he reserved for music. Not me. A cold breeze made me shiver as I tightened my grip on his. Stepped closer. Searched his eyes. His lips tilted up at one corner, like amusement. I'd known, but still, the familiar expression stunned me so much I almost didn't act. I kissed him. Rather, I pressed my mouth against his and hoped he wouldn't run. It would probably kill me. Three long seconds, and he only gasped and tightened his hands on my back. Then, with a soft moan, he opened his mouth and kissed me. It wasn't an easy, sweet kiss like I'd imagined my first would be, but frustrated and hungry. That was good, better than easy and sweet, because after everything, I was frustrated and hungry for him, too. His beak scraped my cheek, but I ignored it while the tip of his tongue danced over my lips.

— Jodi Meadows