"You've been in the mating frenzy before." Eric looked up at her, his eyes quiet. "Yes." "With Kirsten." "Yes." Iona touched her hands together. "You must have loved her very much." Eric nodded. "Yes. Very much." "Then why do you want another mate?" Eric pushed himself from the fireplace and came to her, the first flickers of fire shadowing his tall, naked body. He skimmed warm hands down her arms. "Because I saw you."
"I don't know if I can shoot a man." The old woman cackled. "Can't shoot 'em, but you can wallop 'em to death with a poker." Elizabeth blanched. "That was before I knew they were men." "Man, beast, don't matter. Something aims to kill you, your kin, your friends, you kill it first. You weren't carrying that poker to protect yourself against no wolf."
He was the kind of man who could kiss a woman, laying his heart at her feet, and then go torture and kill an enemy to ensure those he loved survived another day.
"The fundamentalists were equally stymied. "We were worried about Adam and Steve," a Baptist minister said. "Should we have been more worried about Rover and Fluffy?"
Her soft voice nearly was the end of his strength. Just when he was certain there was no way he could love her more, she did something like that. She made him feel as if he was everything to her. He'd never been everything to anyone.
As my hair fell free, Cortez entwined his fingers in it and kissed me even harder. Then he slipped one hand from my hair and snapped his fingers over our heads. The lights went out.
"Your eyes seem to flash every time you stare at me. You look hungry when you look at me." A slight growl rumbled in his chest. "That's a different kind of hunger, Naomi."
Fear sitters down her spine, yet excitement welled up like a fountain.He looked all man, a tough, scarred man at the edge of his control and knowing he was that way because of her--for her-- was exhilarating. She wanted him to look at her like that--all hungry leopard, a man craving--needing her body. HER body. HER skin. HER.
Fear skittered down her spine, yet excitement welled up like a fountain.He looked all man, a tough, scarred man at the edge of his control and knowing he was that way because of her--for her-- was exhilarating. She wanted him to look at her like that--all hungry leopard, a man craving--needing her body. HER body. HER skin. HER.
"Our cats are moody and vicious and if it goes wrong, we have no choice but to put it down. Humans have problems understanding that because they are doing their best to evolve to a higher plane." Ashe didn't point out that she thought it wasn't working."
She laughed, and the sound was tantalizing. He didn't understand how musical notes could stroke a man's skin and dance along his thighs. He didn't understand how the notes could be an arrow that pierced his heart. She owned him.
Ashe's entire face lit up when she laughed. That laughter did something to his insides, turning him to mush, so he thought some of the ice that had frozen all emotions so many years earlier had melted and allowed her deeper.
That kind of loyalty could never be bought . Fear couldn't buy that loyalty. Timur was reminded of that every time he saw the two men. They weren't related by blood, but they were brothers all the same.
"He buried his face in her neck and held her in his arms, absorbing the form the shape of her, the miracle of her. It had been so long since he held her, loved her, taken all that she was and given her everything he was. "I missed you." It was a ridiculous declaration. "Missed her" didn't begin to cover at all how he felt."
"Your woman's a badass, Timur,"he said. "She can't cook worth shit, but she's a badass." [...] "Don't ever cross her," Jeremiah warned. "She knows more ways to kill a man than I do. Seriously, boss, don't do it." [...]"She's inventive when it comes to killing men."He beckoned Timur closer and waited for him to bend down. He looked left and right to make certain no one would over hear him. "You're so lucky, man. She's a total babe," he whispered. "She's a mankiller, and that's hot as hell."
I ran my tongue along the top of his underwear, letting it slide underneath. Then i shifted my body forward, lips moving back up his chest, until i was straddling him again.
As I walk down the halls of Oakridge High, dressed in a black lacy Lolita dress, fishnets, and platform boots, swinging my Beetlejuice lunchbox, I wonder if this really was such a good idea.
My sister, lover of the night, vampire of the Blood Coven, never before seen in anything but the color black, wants to be a pom-pom waving, football field-dancing cheerleader?