Somehow, I did not finger you for a treasure-hunter.”“Oh, but I am,” without shame. “Her name is Titian Aziz.

— V.S. Carnes

Southern gentleman,” he said aside to him in Arabic. “Do you wish for me to continue this for you?” Caine’s temper shifted to a low simmer in his chest. “Your way takes too long.”“Ma’Alan, and your way hurts my ears,” he argued.

— V.S. Carnes

The blood dried on his good hand, he passed his palm over her hair. It curled about his wrist and sprung back into displace as the breeze fluttered by. In the firelight, it was golden like the dandelions of which she’d spoken. The ones that had grown along the Franklin riverbank in late summer. The ones he had lost any faith in since he’d committed his first murder there.

— V.S. Carnes

The horizon was indistinguishable from the inky black, which fell upon the desert like a sorcerer’s mantle shot through with diamonds. The stars were so tiny, so far away, and yet, at the moment, with her fingers curled around his, he almost felt as though he could reach up and snag one by the tail.

— V.S. Carnes

There are still many souls to be won for Christ,” she answered with quiet dignity, eyes downcast—but not, he figured, in humility. “Even here. Perhaps, especially here. Where better to spread his love, than a country just recently ravaged by war?” “Where better to be kidnapped and sold into slavery, than a country just recently ravaged by war?” with a discernible sneer.

— V.S. Carnes

Therefore, she hummed the provincial lullaby she had learned from the officers’ children in the English Quarter of Jerusalem, and watched in fascination while the savage radical’s eyes misted over with tears. For an instant, the prison bars melted away, and she felt God’s presence—for the first time since their imprisonment. She was not a captive, and this man was not her captor. Indeed, they were both merely God’s children.

— V.S. Carnes

There will always be another war, Gilliam.” He allowed his cynicism to seep through. “Do you know why? Because there will always be bigots and cowards and power-mad devils in positions of omnipotence. Look around you. There has been war here since time began. It’s nature. Animals kill each other for survival, for territory… and for the taste of blood in their mouths. Man is no different.

— V.S. Carnes

They were literally inches from being buried alive in this place, millions of miles from home or any sort of civilization, where they would never be found or mourned... and Caine continued to smile. Sweet heavens, he was completely out of his mind!

— V.S. Carnes

This man was no servant. She looked up at him in acute agitation and knew: this man was now her master.

— V.S. Carnes

Wait for me.” If his voice was just a bit hoarse, she didn’t seem to take note of it. She looked at him as though he had reached over and slapped her. “You don’t trust me? After all that talk of taking me for my word—”“This isn’t about trust.”“That is precisely what this is about.” Her fingers fisted in her skirts. “Because I’ve trusted you.” It hurt him to hear it. He didn’t know what else to do. He had no contacts left. Furthermore, he was walking around now like a blind man. Furthermore, he didn’t need the added weight of her safety on his conscience. Caine’s eyes fell away again. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” That earned him a flustered: “You told me to!

— V.S. Carnes