“If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.”

“I love you and you understand what that phrase means to me. I don’t say it…to anyone…ever.”

“But don’t you find the concept of love unusual? (Alix)Not at all. Love I understand completely. It’s hatred that puzzles me. I don’t comprehend finding pleasure in cruelty. (Vik)”

“Henry loves me. Henry is here, finally, now, finally. And I love him.”

“I don’t want there to be things you “love about me”, I want you to love “all of me”.”

“You don’t love me,” she said slowly. “You’ve looked at me the same way from the instant we met.”His grip tightened on her waist. He leaned into her on a hiss. “Don’t tell me I don’t love you. Don’t you dare tell me that, Margaret. I have loved you since the moment you read my brother’s book to me. I love that you are the one woman I can trust with my weakness, that you know all the dark parts of me and do not turn away. I love the fierceness with which you protect the ones you love, even when they don’t deserve it. I love every last inch of you, and I want you for my own.” His words were hot, fiercely possessive, and yet he leaned his forehead against hers gently. “Although God knows, I don’t deserve you.”