The sight of me puffing and straining apparently amused him to no end.
It could be worse," he said finally. "Efrenia married an arsonist. Jake's wife is a kleptomaniac. I suppose, a psychopathic spree killer isn't that odd of a choice, considering.
Wanna spot me?" "No thanks. How about I just scream verbal encouragements at you?
You're not going to die?" "Not right this minute." And of course, saying something like that usually resulted in immediate dying. I braced myself for a stray meteorite falling through the roof to crush my skull.
Shave that jaw, brush that hair, tone down the crazy in the eyes, and he would have to fight women off with that crossbow.
Oh, Gods." His eyes shone with want and predatory satisfaction. "The name's William. It's a common mistake.
It depends. If I don't let you in, will you huff and puff and blow my house down?" She had no idea. "I'm more of a kick the door open and cut everyone inside to ribbons kind of wolf.
The dark scary servant of all evil was on his way to rescue me. Somehow that thought failed to make me warm and fuzzy.
This doesn't mean you're getting a discount." Audrey heaved a mock sigh. "Oh well. I guess I'll have to ply you with sexual favors, then." Gnome choked on the soup. "I'm old enough to be your grandfather!" Audrey winked at him, gathering the empty bags. "But you're not.
An evil spark flared in his eyes. "Trade: raccoon for some answers.
When walking into the lair of the dragon after robbing his hoard, the least you could do is hold you head high [...]
You do realize you just insulted me, right?" "How so?" "You implied that I can't protect her or my people." I looked at him. "That's not at all what I meant." "Apologize and I'll let it go." I kept my hands firmly on the iron rail before me. Grabbing the weight bar and walloping the Beast Lord upside the head wouldn't be the best diplomatic move. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty." There. I was civil. It almost killed me.
The Beast Lord walked out of the warehouse. The screen went dark. My knight in furry armor. Saiman opened his mouth. "This is why I didn't. Personally, I think your smile is inappropriate.
The pervert." "He prefers to think of himself as sexual deviant." "Semantics.
You're screening your calls?" "Why not? It saves me from conversations with idiots." "Is that an insult?" His voice dropped into a deep growl. "You're not an idiot," I told him. "You're just a deadly psychopath with a god complex.(...)
I've got a gig," Jim said. I sat up in my bed, wide-awake. A gig was good- I needed the money. "Half." "Third." "Half." "Thirty-five percent." Jim's voice hardened. "Half." The phone went silent as my former Guild partner mulled it over. "Okay, forty." I hung up.(...) The phone rang. I let it ring twice before I picked it up. "Fine." Jim's voice had a hint of a snarl in it. "Half.
Did I hurt you in the parking lot?" "No, m'lady. I fell, so I could put a tracker on your car." Great.
Dali blinked at me. "Would you mind making coffee while you're dancing? I smell it on the bottom shelf, either first or second jar on the left." I opened the first jar and looked inside. Coffee. The label said BORAX. "What's up with the labels?" Dali shrugged. "You're in the house of a cat whose job is to spy. He thinks he's clever. I'd be careful with the silverware drawer. There might be a bomb in it.
The kind of eyes that jumped from a woman's dreams right into her morning and made trouble in the marriage bed.
Wiggles hissed as I crossed the floor toward the throne. She fixed me with her empty hateful eyes and smelled the air, her long tongue shivering through the slit of the lipless mouth. Nice to see you too, sweetheart. Remember my cattle prod?
I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft." "I bet." He almost purred. I gulped.
I have a vamp body for you," Andrea said. "It's in the freezer." I gave her a nice smile. "You shouldn't have.
Now was not a good time, but we didn't often get to chose the time to repay our debts.
I can make some calls. There is a guy. Dagfinn Heyerdahl. He used to be with Norse Heritage Foundation." Norse Heritage Foundation wasn't so much about heritage as it was about viking, in the most cliché sense of the world. They drank huge quantities of beer, they brawled, and they wore horned helmets despite all historical evidence to the contrary. "Used to be?" Curran asked. "They kicked him out for being drunk and violent." Curran blinked. "The Norse Heritage?" "Mhm." "Don't you have to be drunk and violent just to get in?" he asked. "Just how disorderly did he get?
A girl half my age swept by and slammed two giant tankard filled with beer on the table. Ragnvald held his up. I smashed my tankard against his. Beer splashed. We raised the tankard and pretended to take much bigger gulps than we did.
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