“A moment before this voice spoke, Lord Emsworth had been smirking. He now congealed, and the smile passed from his lips like breath off a razor, to be succeeded be a tense look of anxiety and alarm.”

“Lucas Delos stood over her, his body tense, his eyes scanning the distance for something that Helen couldn’'t see from her position on the ground.“'Are you injured?'” he asked in a low, unsteady voice, still looking out over her head. There was blood on his lip and his shirt was torn. Helen had a bare moment to say she was fine before she heard the sobbing sisters start to whisper.”

“His lips were like a caress as he brushed them across mine; slow and soft. He lingered, breathing in deeply as if he couldn't breathe without me. Eventually, he moved on to plant a tender kiss on my bottom lip, before pilling back and looking at me. His cocky grin was gone, replaced with something tender and nervous. His thumb ran over my lip once, before he let go, and smiled. -Loc 1471 ARC”

“Tragedy was like that, a razor that sliced through time, severing the now from the before, incising the what-might-have-been from reality as cleanly as any surgeon's blade.”

“There was that half-smirk again, playing around his lips, as if he was deciding whether the situation was amusing enough to warrant a full smile.”

“That night, before he tried to sleep, Louie prayed. He had prayed only once before in his life, in childhood, when his mother was sick and he had been filled with a rushing fear that he would lose her. That night on the raft, in words composed in his head, never passing his lips, he pleaded for help.”