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I need to check in with Seth before I-- he burrowed his face into the side of her neck, his breath almost painfully warm on her throat--give in to my unconscionable desire to put my hands on you properly.
Melissa Marr
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Melissa Marr
Age: 52
Born: 1972
Born: July 25
Author
Fantasy Author
Novelist
Teacher
Writer
Pennsylvania
United States
M. A. Marr
Melissa A Marr
Giving
Sides
Check
Needs
Almost
Properly
Face
Throat
Faces
Checks
Unconscionable
Desire
Breath
Seth
Hands
Breaths
Painfully
Give
Warm
Neck
Need
Side
Necks
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And he smiled at her, truely smiled- wicked and lovely.
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Without stopping kissing her, he swept her up into his arms. They stood in the motel lobby kissing until someone called, Get a room. Donia pulled back and laughed. That was the plan. They said no.
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You say potato I say potahto... I say integrity you say deceit.
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Some mortals--like you--are already half in love with death. It is who you are, and I'll not make it harder on you by telling you things you don't need to know. Ask me again when you die. Then I'll tell you everything, anything, nothing.
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Will you be my forever, Donia?
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You are the single most amazing person, faery, woman in this world or the other. Because of you, I am a part of this strange new world, have a second mother, and . . . eternity. I have almost everything I could want.
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You're an idiot, she whispered tearfully. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms. For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, Are you dead too?
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Maybe the girl would get strong enough to withstand an ink exchange with one of the chosen faeries. If not, he could always give her to one of the weaker fey. It seemed a shame to waste a lovely broken toy.
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You need to face what you're running from
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She turned so they were face-to-face and gave him back the words he'd offered her their first night together: I survived. Isn't that what matters?
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She stepped closer to one of the statues. It looked wide-eyed, almost afraid as she reached out her hand. One of the women reached out and snatched Aislinn's still uplifted hand. No. The women spoke all at once, not to her or to Keenan, but softly-as if to themselves-in a sibilant whisper. He's ours. Fair exchange. Not yours to interfere.
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You're not weak at all. Wounded, but that's nothing to be ashamed of.
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As a lifelong romance reader, its always satisfying to get to talk to other romance readers!
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She was afraid, but she couldn't just sit around waiting for someone to save her. She had to try to save herself, try to figure it out.
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His blue-black hair fell over his face when he moved, like tiny arrows pointing to pronounced cheeckbones. Starting to think you were going to bail on me. Didn't know you were expecting me, she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. He gets sexier every day. Not Expecting, but hoping. Always hoping
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They've been stealing mortals away for centuries, but they can't have you.
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You already gave me forever, Aislinn. I'm asking for a chance at right now.
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We are what we are, neither a good or as bad as others paint us. And what we are doesn't change how truly we feel, only how free we are to follow those feelings.
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I'm still yours, though. That won't ever change, Shadow Girl.
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Leslie? Irial whispered. What are you doing? Choosing. Tears were soaking the blanket under Leslie's face. I'm mine. Not anyone else's. I'm still yours, though. That won't ever change, Shadow Girl. And then he was gone, and her emotions crashed over her.
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