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When you walk a dog on a short leash, she's close enough to bite you.

Ilona Andrews

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Ilona Andrews
Walk
Walks
Leash
Enough
Leashes
Bite
Bites
Dog
Short
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Roland had sworn off children—they kept trying to kill him.
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Only poor people are weird. Rich people are eccentric.
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He lunged for the maps. I grabbed the chair and hit him with it. He went down. I hit him again to make sure he stayed that way, stepped over him, and picked up the maps. I win.
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Just stay close to us. If we get in trouble, we'll kill everything.
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The Order of Merciful Aid provided merciful aid, usually on the edge of a blade or the burn of a bullet.
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You slept with Curran and you didn’t tell me? I’m your best friend.” “It didn’t come up.” “How disappointing for you.” Ha-ha. “That’s not what I meant.
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Why couldn't she have gotten another Edger or some dimwit from the Broken for a passenger? No, she got Lord Leather Pants here.
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How is it that I could run into a gunfight against overwhelming odds and put myself between bullets and civilians, but I couldn't scrape together enough courage to speak to the one person who mattered the most to me?
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I was a knight, Andrea said. I'm not just going to start shooting every dickhead who mouths off to me. Just making sure. Besides, if I shot him, I'd do it so nobody could trace it back to me. I'd shoot him somewhere remote, his head would explode like a melon, and they would never find his body. He would just vanish.
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Give me a few minutes.” “You have time.” He sat in the grass. “Are you just going to sit there and watch me?” “Yes. Watching pretty peasant girls is what we poor little rich boys do best.” “Peasant?” He shrugged. “You started the name calling.
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Curran and I mixed about as well as glycerin and nitric acid: put us together, shake a bit, and hit the deck as we exploded.
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