“Nick rubbed his hand across his face as he tried to make sense of her prattle. But that was the thing about Simi. She seldom made sense.”

“He pushed a hand inside the blankets to feel her cheek, her shoulder. Trickles of water ran across her face as her hair melted. He was cold, but she was ice. She needed every scrap of warmth he could find for her...His sense of touch, enhanced by the Void and saidin, soaked in the feel of her. Her skin made silt feel rough.”

“He half expected another argument. A struggle of some sort. Again, a surprise. She made that soft, hungry sound that had already emblazoned itself in his senses, she put her hands on his shoulders, and she kissed him back, her tongue sliding against his.”

“Hey. (She took his chin in her hand so that she could move his head back and forth while she examined him.) You’re hurting in there. That would make akri very sad. He doesn’t like for his Dark-Hunters to hurt and the Simi don’t like it when akri is sad. Why are you hurt? (Simi)”

“There was an infinitesimal pause while he watched her face, as though he half expected her to recognise it, before he went on, 'My friends call me Thorn,' and gave her a smile of such devastating charm that she blinked.Her hand clasped in his, her senses zinging from his touch and that stunning smile, she stared into his dark, handsome face until, realising that she was gawking at him like some overgrown schoolgirl, she withdrew her hand and asked quickly, 'What do your enemies call you?”

“His face was pale, and he dropped to the floor so that he was half kneeling, half sitting before her. "Please. I can...help you.""No." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her mind felt clearer now. Everything made more sense when she wasn't so hungry. "I don't think I want the help you have."He cradled his bloody arm and tried to stand. "This isn't right. You aren't right. You aren't suppose to be here.""But I am.”