You belong where you're loved.

When he faced her again, he had never looked to her so much like one of the Fair Folk. His eyes were full of feral amusement, a carelessness that spoke of a world where there was no human Law. He seemed to bring the wildness of Faerie into the room with him: a cold, sweet magic that was nevertheless a bitter at the roots.

The storm calls you as it calls me, does it not?

He held out a hand to her, half-beckoning, half-offering.

"Why lie?" he said.

You don't have to do this for me," Emma was saying, softly but earnestly, in a voice Cristina had never heard her use before.
I think I do," said Julian. "I think I remember making a vow to that effect."
"'Whither thou goest, I will go, whatever stupid thing you do, I will do also?'" Emma said. "Was that the vow?

Nobody calls me 'blondie' and keeps their kneecaps.

If she kissed him, would he taste like blood or cloves or a mixture of the two?

She soared above the ground, and he kept her tethered to the earth. Without him she would be lost among the clouds.