Sit," Chloe said, dashing after him and tugging firmly at his sleeve. "Let's hear the rest of it. You can kill him later." ~Chloe to Dageus.
He was sexual in a way that made women think of deeply repressed fantasies therapists and feminists alike would cringe to hear tell of.
When Drustan reached the bottom step, she flung herself into his arms. He swung her up into his embrace and kissed her hungrily. By the time he'd finished, she was gasping for air and laughing. "My turn?" Dageus teased.
Don't bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn't work.
Love can grown among the rocks and thorns of life.
...When a man first awakens, it sometimes takes several moments before he starts thinking clearly." "And here I thought it took several years, perhaps a lifetime for the average man's intellect to kick in.
Let's get something straight, MacKeltar. I am not going home with you. I am not going to bed with you, and I am not wasting one more moment arguing with you." "I promise not to mock you when you change your mind, lass.
That's impossible," Gwen gasped. "The fastest I've ever run on a treadmill was ten and a half minutes and I nearly died. And it was only one mile. I had to rest for hours and eat chocolate to revive myself.
I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door. "No," she said irritably. "And a purple shirt.
The running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street; mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.
She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.
Think you two puny Druids can hold this keep for a single night?
For the record, Irish," he informed her tightly, just in case she got the wrong idea, "I kneel to no one.
I have a box inside me now that never used to exist. I never needed it before. It's down in my deepest, darkest corner, and it's airtight, soundproofed and padlocked. It's where I keep the thoughts I don't know what to do with, that could get me into trouble. Eating Unseelie hammers on the inside of that lid incessantly. I try to keep kissing Barrons in that box, too, but it gets out sometimes.
Air ye deaf, lass?" I think. He might have called me a hairy jackass
He gives me a look that says, “Dude, if I knew that do you think I’d have enlisted your puny help?” I snicker. “Something funny here.” “You. All prickly and pissed ’cause there’s something you don’t know. Got to call on the megaservices of the Mega.” “Ever occur to you I’m using you for reasons your inferior human brain can’t begin to understand.
Observations,” he says. “Four imperial Unseelie guards were the only commonality I was able to isolate endemic to both scenes.” They’d been standing, armed, at the dock doors, overseeing the delivery. He gives me a sidewise look. “Wow. That was, like, a whole sentence. With nouns and verbs and connective tissue. Endemic. Fancy word.
This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I would have chosen. You must know that. It's important you know that.
I'll never get laid trying to keep you safe. You're a train wreck on steroids.
I'd turn and run but I'm anchored by two dudes that could hold the Titanic during a tsunami.
I'm his locomotive and he's my shield.
Life is not black and white. The closes we ever get to either of those colors is wearing them.
My breathing was shallow and my hands were fists. 'Oh, yes, I'm going to have to kill you Barrons.' I said coolly, Partly because, for the most miniscule sliver of an instant, while looking at those handcuffs, I'd imagined myself climbing back into bed and pretending I wasn't cured yet.
I've spent enough time behind a bar that I've formed a few opinions about what people wear and what it says about them. Guys who wear black from head to toe fall into two categories: they want to be trouble, or they are trouble.
I couldn’t move. It’s something I’m still ashamed of. You always wonder how you’ll handle a moment of crisis; if you’ve got what it takes to fight or if you’ve just been deluding yourself all along that somewhere deep inside you there’s steel beneath the magnolia. Now I knew the truth. There wasn’t. I was all petals and pollen. Good for attracting the procreators who could ensure the survival of our species, but not a survivor myself. I was Barbie after all.
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