His look his touch his heat spread like wildfire through me.

He was wildfire and I wanted to burn.

How was I to know this tiny spark would spread like wildfire.

A wise man did not pour wildfire on a brazier. Instead he poured a fresh cup of wine.

She lit wildfires inside my soul and fanned them with hurricanes.

His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cercei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted.