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I can't help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I've become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.
Karen Marie Moning
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Karen Marie Moning
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: November 1
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Cincinnati
Ohio
Become
Driven
Despair
Died
Grungy
Loss
Carved
Pretty
Macs
Help
Frivolous
Black
Pink
Helping
Sister
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You've been doing something bad since the moment you met me, lass.
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-I'm going to kill the kid. - Barrons says faintly. Ryodan makes a burbling sound like a bodly laught. -Get in line
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As his other hand began to slip around her waist, his body brushed against hers, and there was no mistaking the thick, hard ridge grazing her jean-clad bottom. Heavens, did that thing never subside? The rest of him might be mortal, but his immortal erection certainly didn't scan to have gotten the memo.
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I’m Pri-ya again. I always will be with this man.
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It's a sponge and I'm a sponge and for a second there all our sponge parts are one and I don't just have square pants, everything about me is squarish because I'm part of a wall.
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One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you can't breathe around it and you realize you don't need air.
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Moth to a flame I follow.
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So how did he look at me? Like it was his birthday and you were the cake.
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Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?
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Don't bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn't work.
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If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?
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You never knew what you could get away with until you tried.
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He didn't just kiss, he claimed ownership. Took her mouth with urgency, as if his life depended on his kissing her.
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Barrons’ lips twitched. I’d almost made him smile. Barrons smiles about as often as the sun comes out in Dublin, and it has the same effect on me makes me feel warm and stupid.
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Unpredictable as a hungry lion, he might be feared by everyone else, but he never ripped out my throat, only licked me, and, if his tongue was a little rough sometimes, it was worth it to walk beside the king of the jungle.
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How does it feel, MacKayla? You have a piece of me in your mouth. Would you like another?
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A wing or a thigh? Ah, I'm afraid we don't have any thighs left.
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