Quote

She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on his mouth. Name. He wanted her name. She had to think about it for a second before she remembered. Great. She must have hit her head. Which, duh, explained the headache.

Larissa Ione

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Larissa Ione
Age: 42
Born: 1982
Born: August 12
Author
Writer
Oregon
United States
Sydney Croft
Thinking
Head
Headache
Eyes
Concentrated
Names
Explained
Eye
Remembered
Wanted
Mouth
Must
Mouths
Great
Second
Think
Name
Narrowed

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Oompa-Loompa Land?” He shook his head. “No way. Orange people give me the creeps. I don’t even like fake tans. I’d never be their king.
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I don’t care what you are, Gem. I want you. I love you.
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For the next eight and a half months, you're going to be mine. Every. Night.
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You can't truly hate someone you've loved. You can only hurt.
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The present was better. Much, much better. Humans had coffee now. And gelato.
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No bra,” he said against her mouth. “Thank you. I hate those things. Dumbest human invention. Ever.
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Because make no mistake, Serena. I do bite. ~Wraith
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Harvester’s heart soared. Reaver had offered to castrate an archangel for her. How sweet was that?
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Reseph tried to convince one of my vamps to slip an aphrodisiac into my drink. Ares is quite fond of the orc-weed, Vulgrim called out from the kitchen, and yeah, there was a set of chains in the dungeon with his name on them. Limos scowled. What did your demon say? Nothing, Ares muttered.
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The pretty nurse had just injected her with something that totally rocked, and if she wanted to think about boinking a bronzed, tattooed, impossibly handsome doctor who was so far out of her league she need a telescope to see him, then screw it. Screw him. Over and over.
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Okay, boys.” Pestilence's grating voice rang out. “Kill the human and the mutt, and let's get this Apocalypse started!
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His instincts should have warned him sooner than they had, but thanks to his agimortus, he'd been hobbled like a brood mare waiting to be mounted by a randy stallion
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I’m so jealous,” she whispered, and he blinked. “Of what?” Her head fell back on the pillow, and she stared up at the ceiling with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. “You’re so alive, Lore. There’s fire in you. A will to live, when all I want is to be done with this life.
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I wonder what disgusts you more, the fact that I’m a demon, or the fact that when I touch you, it doesn’t matter.
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His voice was low and rough … “What about you? Do you like bad boys?” “There’s definitely appeal,” she breathed. “Good,” He bent and clipped her earlobe with his teeth … “Because they don’t come badder than me.
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You should smile more often.' 'Can't.' He grunted as he opened her shirt to expose her chest. 'My face might freeze like that.
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In fact, the males very rarely take permanent mates.' His skin was so tan. 'Why not?' 'Because we tend to kill the females.' Ah, well, okay. That wasn't cool.
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I don't try Sin. I do. Remember that.
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He wouldn’t take anything from her ever again. But from this point on, he’d give her whatever she wanted. Which was easy, because what she wanted right now was an orgasm.
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Harvester might have a halo, but dear, sweet Lord, she was no angel in the sack. Awesome.
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