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He’s a war mage. They’re almost impossible to kill.” He scowled. “Even on purpose.

Karen Chance

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Karen Chance
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Orlando
Florida
Mage
Scowled
Kill
Impossible
Almost
Purpose
War
Even

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Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.
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The worst part was the silence. Death was supposed to be loud — gunshots, explosions, screams and thunder. Not this eerie quiet that wrapped around me like a shroud.
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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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I’d never known that anyone could kiss in English, kiss in apologies.
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I barely heard him, I was too busy watching Pritkin, who had slumped over with his head on the sofa arm, shoulders shaking helplessly, and what looked suspiciously like tears leaking out from under his closed eyes. Not that bad, he muttered, and then he was off again.
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Come and take your seat, Lady Dorina.
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And why not?” “You know why! This is a bad idea.” “Perhaps I like a challenge.” “Perhaps you’re a glutton for punishment!” “Perhaps I am in love.
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Yes, but knee pants are so much more flattering. You can see my legs. You want people to see your legs? I have very nice legs! We both paused to admire them for a moment.
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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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There are things we want, and things we may have.... Sanity lies in knowing the difference.
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Stercus Accidit. [barren happens]
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And then Mircea finally let me down, only to get his hands inside the coat and push me against the wall. I'm dirty, I protested. He waggled his eyebrows. Promise? Mircea! I laughed in spite of myself.
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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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He had the look of an atheist who’d just had a visit from God: stunned, disbelieving and faintly ill.
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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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They don’t eat that much.” “In comparison to what? Starving marines?
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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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Great. I'd been dumped in Hell's waiting room.
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I was alive, they were not. Go Me. (Touch the Dark)
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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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