Had records so stellar, they had to lock their resumes in a drawer at night, so the golden light streaming from the pages wouldn't keep them awake.
The first magic wave kicked the world in the face.
I wouldn't be able to do anything with my vampire horde except make it run around in a herd, but it would be a very impressive herd.
Now Julie could stay here, in the Keep full of homicidal maniacs who grew teeth the size of switchblades and erupted into a violent frenzy when threatened.
Would you care for something to drink?” “Is it poisoned?” “It’s Saturday,” I said. “We only serve poison during the week.
Whatever storm was brewing, I'd find it and fight it. If it was the price of being with Curran, then I would pay it. He was worth it.
Shapeshifter parenting motto—if your kid slit somebody's throat, always have a backup plan to make the body disappear.
I had forgotten that talking to you is like trying to pet a cactus." Saiman said dryly. "Thank you for reminding me." "Always happy to oblige.
Jealous of the actors now, are we?" "What, of some fancy boy on the screen? Inconceivable." Oh, this was going to be good.
Seducing him in the tub smelling of vinegar was out of the question. There had to be some boundaries.
I don't know if you heard, but I kind of run this place.
Did he just rip out the engine?" I asked. "Yes", Saiman said. "And now he is demolishing the Maserati with it." Ten seconds later Curran hurled the twisted wreck of black and orange that used to be the Maserati into the wall. The first melodic notes of an old song came from the computer. I glanced at Saiman. He shrugged. "It begged for a soundtrack.
It was his eyes. When you looked into them, you saw chained violence baring teeth and claws back at you.
In the whole world, there was no better place than being wrapped in him.
It was the kind of place you went when your earthly troubles became too much for you and you were looking for a creative way to commit suicide.
Yes I can,” Curran snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.” I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.
She can tell you the height of the attacker from the trigonometry of the blood spatter, while I'm fuzzy on what trigonometry is.
How are you?" "Perfectly fine," he said. "Are your ribs broken?" "Probably not. Cracked at most. We fought very carefully." "Did this settle anything?" "It made me feel better," he said, sitting up. "Did you see me kick him in the kidneys?" "I saw.
It became known that I had a rather fertile imagination, when it came to private activities." She stared. "What sort of private activities?" This time he did smile, and it turned his face wicked. "Disrobe, and I'll be happy to demonstrate.
Go home, kiss your wives, hug your children and put your affairs in order, because tomorrow I will burn your neighborhood to the ground. We will kill you, your families, your neighbors, your pets, and anyone who will stand in our path. An attack on my family will not go unpunished.
I’d missed him so much, it almost hurt. It started the moment I left the Keep and nagged at me all day. Every day I had to fight with myself to keep from making up bullshit reasons to call the Keep so I could hear his voice. My only saving grace was that Curran wasn’t handling this whole mating thing any better. Yesterday he’d called me at the office claiming that he couldn’t find his socks. We talked for two hours.
Too much excitement, Your Majesty?” I asked. “He was standing too close.” “He was asking about Andrea.” “Too close. I didn’t like it.” Curran wrapped his arm around my shoulders and started walking, steering me away from the group. His Possessive Majesty in all of his glory.
The hallway led me to the stairway of a million steps. My leg screamed in protest. I sighed and started climbing. I just had to keep from limping. Limping showed weakness, and I didn’t need any enterprising, career-motivated shapeshifters trying to challenge me for dominance right about now. I had once mentioned my desire for an elevator, and His Majesty asked me if I would like a flock of doves to carry me up to my quarters so my feet wouldn’t have to touch the ground. We were sparring at the time and I kicked him in the kidney in retaliation.
Yep, Atlanta was burning. Again.
Who is Hunter Becker?" "Becker the Gory? Lighthouse Keepers? Boston?" "I would've preferred Becker the Easiley Surrendering or Becker the Quite Reasonable, but beyond that his name tells me nothing.
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