“I’m a fever in your blood now, Saba. As you are in mine.”
“Your cold blood cannot be worked into a fever; your veins are full of ice water; but mine are boiling, and the sight of such chillness makes them dance.”
“Are you mine?”Yes.“Are you mine?”Yes.“Are you mine?”No.“No?”No. I loved being yours. But now I’m mine, which is all I ever was, in the end.”
“You’re mine, the girls are mine. I’m stakin’ my claim with you right now and, you force it, I’ll do it with him too.”
“Saba! I'm afeared! cries Emmi. If you are, you ain't no sister of mine! I shout. Come at me agin!I ain't afeared of nuthin! She yells. That's more like it.”
“I’m sorry I fought you, Mace,” I whispered. “But now that you’re mine again, I’m never going to let you go.”