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For a second I thought I might actually be alive, I said, looking at Nick's unshaven face. Now I know- I've gone to Hell and you're my nursemaid.

Ilona Andrews

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Ilona Andrews
Gone
Face
Actually
Nick
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Thought
Second
Might
Hell
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Aha, Andrea said. I'm going to ignore that you just referred to yourself as 'sugar woogums'.
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You should name him Fezzik. Inconceivable.
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Voshak's hair, a pale blond braid, which he bleached, was his trademark. It made him memorable. That's how the slavers operated. They adopted costumes and personas, trying to make themselves larger-than-life and hoping to inspire fear. They counted on that fear. One could fight a man, but nobody could fight a nightmare.
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He had the prettiest hair she had ever seen on a man: dark brown, almost black, and soft like sable, it fell down to his shoulders. She wondered what he'd do if she threw some mud in it. Probably kill her.
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Perhaps I just wasn't scary enough. Maybe I should invest in some horns or fangs.
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And men my prophet wail deride!
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The kind of eyes that jumped from a woman's dreams right into her morning and made trouble in the marriage bed.
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I just had to stay cool. Zen. No punching in the face. Punching would not be Zen.
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Had he expected me to hump her leg?
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You snore worse. At least I don't turn into a lion in my sleep. I only did it once. Once was weird enough, thank you.
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You're not going to die? Not right this minute. And of course, saying something like that usually resulted in immediate dying. I braced myself for a stray meteorite falling through the roof to crush my skull.
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