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He had the look of an atheist who’d just had a visit from God: stunned, disbelieving and faintly ill.

Karen Chance

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Karen Chance
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Orlando
Florida
Disbelieving
Faintly
Stunned
Visit
Ill
Atheist
Look
Looks

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You know, I was gutting this loser the other day, and I thought, It’d be more fun fighting that little dhampir. I wonder if she’s recovered yet. And here you are.” “Lucky me,” I said. Scarface grinned. “You know, I might even let you live. You’re funny.
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I turned over, and those big hands got to work on my back. I stifled a whimper in the pillow, because Marco's idea of a massage bore no resemblance whatsoever to the relaxing spa variety. There was no lavender oil, no soothing music, no hot towels. Just an all-out assault on cramped muscles, until they cowered in surrender and turned to Jell-O.
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...I ran out of stock around midnight and dropped by a place, got some Chinese. I hoped he meant takeout.
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My body cheerfully informed me that he felt really good pressed against me like that, all hard muscles and smooth contours and ominous bulges. My body liked the air of barely leashed strength and caged mayhem he was giving off. My body thought he smelled really good, like heat and coffee and electricity. My body was going to get me killed.
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I don’t know. Just pick one.” “Well, there’s a lot of choice. I mean, you got your flavored, your ridged, your pre-lubed, your thin, your super-ultra-thin, your super-ultra-thin-pre-lubed, your…Huh.” “Huh what?” “Would you look at this?” he asked, examining a small box. “It says it glows in the dark.
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You know, dulceata, there are times when I truly believe you are the most frightening person I know. Thank you?
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Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.
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I’d been declared—over my loud and sustained protests—Pythia, the chief seer of the supernatural world.
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Come and take your seat, Lady Dorina.
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Poireaux vinaigrette aux grains de caviar.” I did a quick translation. “Leeks and fish eggs in vinegar?” He grinned. “It sounds better in French.” Yeah, but did it taste better?
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One day, you will say it to me again. You will be sober. And you will mean it.
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All I want to know is why a party of Fey wanted to kill me,” I said heatedly. The beetle’s lips twisted enough to show fang. “Doesn’t everyone?” Radu hustled me out the door before I could find out if the vamp’s plump little carcass would fit into his overstuffed desk.
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Great. I'd been dumped in Hell's waiting room.
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Pritkin muttered something that sounded fairly vicious. “My clothes are warded! Even if I wished to accede to your demand, it would not work on them.” “Then strip.” “I beg your pardon?” He sounded almost polite suddenly, as if he believed he couldn’t possibly have heard right.
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You know, I've lived a long time, he told me, massaging my calf more firmly now. And I met a lot of people. But I ain't never met a woman made me want to beat her to death as often as you.
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You love me? He just looked at me for a moment. And then he reared back his head and laughed, a rich, mellow sound, unreserved and unashamed. No, not at all. I regularly battle gods for women I dislike!
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Pritkin kissed like he did everything else, straightforward, accepting no prisoners and with an intensity that left me breathless. It was hot and hard and desperate, like he was starving for it, and I opened my mouth and took it, because, God.
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Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.
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This was Dante's. Crazy was what we had for breakfast when we ran out of Corn Flakes
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The most temptation I'd experienced had been with Tomas, the Senate's spy who had been feeding off me without permission, and Mircea, who was probably plotting some nefarious scheme. I have no taste in men.
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