Sign in with Facebook
Lexa Kline’s Followers (13)
1,033 books
|
1,324 friends
86 books
|
14 friends
67 books
|
12 friends
500 books
|
9 friends
Lexa Kline
Goodreads Author
Genre
Member Since
March 2018
To ask
Lexa Kline
questions,
please sign up.
More books by Lexa Kline…
Lexa’s Recent Updates
|
Lexa Kline
has read
|
|
“After shoving his former clothes inside, Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. "Your assistance has been much appreciated." Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. "Knock her dead, my man." "Oh, no." Xcor shook his head. "That shan’t be necessary. This one I like.”
― The King
― The King
“I cannae believe you let me touch you.” His voice grew hoarse. “I shall remember this for all my nights.”
Tears speared into her eyes. Dearest Virgin Scribe, for all her life, she had waited for a moment like this….
“Do not cry.” His thumb went to her cheeks. “Beautiful female of worth, do not cry.”
― Lover at Last
Tears speared into her eyes. Dearest Virgin Scribe, for all her life, she had waited for a moment like this….
“Do not cry.” His thumb went to her cheeks. “Beautiful female of worth, do not cry.”
― Lover at Last
“Stepping onto the bath mat, that was also done in that god-awful deep pinky red, he toweled himself off.
Still erect.
Glancing at his fighting clothes, he found himself loath to put them upon his skin. Rough. Scratchy. Dirty.
Mayhap the feminine environment was contaminating him.
Xcor ended up in the big bed, naked, upon his back.
Still erect.”
― Lover at Last
Still erect.
Glancing at his fighting clothes, he found himself loath to put them upon his skin. Rough. Scratchy. Dirty.
Mayhap the feminine environment was contaminating him.
Xcor ended up in the big bed, naked, upon his back.
Still erect.”
― Lover at Last
“You are real," she said to herself.
"Aye." His voice was deep and resonant, a caress in her ears. But then it cracked, as if he were in pain. "And you are with young."
"I am."
He closed his eyes again, but now it was as if he'd been struck by a body blow. "I saw you."
"When?"
"At the clinic. Nights and nights ago. I thought they had beaten you."
"The Brotherhood? Why ever - "
"Because of me." His eyes opened, and there was such anguish in them, she wanted to comfort him in some way. "I would never have chosen for you to be in this position. You are not of the war, and my lieutenant should never, ever have brought you into it." His voice grew deeper and deeper. "You are an innocent. Even I, who have no honor, recognized that instantly."
If he had no honor, why had he disarmed himself just now, she thought.
"Are you mated?" he said roughly.
"No."
Abruptly, his upper lip peeled back from tremendous fangs. "If you were raped - "
"No. No, no - I chose this for myself. For the male." Her hand went to her abdomen. "I wanted a young. My needing came, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to be a mahmen to something that was mine."
Those narrowed eyes closed again, and he brought up a callused hand to his face. Hiding his irregular mouth, he said, "I wish that I..."
"What?"
"...I were worthy to have given you what you desired."
Layla again felt an unholy need to reach out and touch him, to ease him in some way. His reaction was so raw and honest, and his suffering seemed rather like her own whenever she thought of him.”
― Lover at Last
"Aye." His voice was deep and resonant, a caress in her ears. But then it cracked, as if he were in pain. "And you are with young."
"I am."
He closed his eyes again, but now it was as if he'd been struck by a body blow. "I saw you."
"When?"
"At the clinic. Nights and nights ago. I thought they had beaten you."
"The Brotherhood? Why ever - "
"Because of me." His eyes opened, and there was such anguish in them, she wanted to comfort him in some way. "I would never have chosen for you to be in this position. You are not of the war, and my lieutenant should never, ever have brought you into it." His voice grew deeper and deeper. "You are an innocent. Even I, who have no honor, recognized that instantly."
If he had no honor, why had he disarmed himself just now, she thought.
"Are you mated?" he said roughly.
"No."
Abruptly, his upper lip peeled back from tremendous fangs. "If you were raped - "
"No. No, no - I chose this for myself. For the male." Her hand went to her abdomen. "I wanted a young. My needing came, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to be a mahmen to something that was mine."
Those narrowed eyes closed again, and he brought up a callused hand to his face. Hiding his irregular mouth, he said, "I wish that I..."
"What?"
"...I were worthy to have given you what you desired."
Layla again felt an unholy need to reach out and touch him, to ease him in some way. His reaction was so raw and honest, and his suffering seemed rather like her own whenever she thought of him.”
― Lover at Last
“Hey, can I help you—whoa!”
As he wheeled around and settled into his attack stance, the black human salesperson jumped back and put his palms up.
“Forgive me,” Xcor muttered. At least he hadn’t outed one of his weapons.
“No problem.” The handsome, well-dressed man smiled. “You looking for something specific?”
Xcor glanced around, and nearly walked back to that fancy stairwell. “I require a new shirt.”
“Oh, cool, you got a hot date?”
“And pants. And socks.” Come to think of it, he never wore underwear. “And undergarments. And a jacket.”
The salesman smiled and raised a hand as if he were going to clap his customer on the shoulder—but then caught himself as he clearly rethought the contact. “What kind of look are you going for?” he asked instead.
“Clothed.”
The guy paused like he wasn’t sure whether that was a joke. “Ah . . . okay, I can work with non-naked. Plus it’s legal. Come on with me.”
Xcor followed, because he didn’t know what else to do—he’d gotten this ball rolling; there was no reason not to follow through.
The man stopped in front of a display of shirts. “So I’m going to go with the it’s-a-date thing, unless you tell me otherwise. Casual? You didn’t mention a suit.”
“Casual. Yes. But I want to look. . . .” Well, not like himself, at any rate. “Presentable.”
“Then I think what you’re going to want is a button-down.”
“A button-down.”
The guy regarded him steadily. “You’re not from here, are you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I can tell by the accent.” The salesman passed a hand over the dizzying array of folded-up squares with collars. “These are our traditional cuts. I can tell without measuring you that the European stuff isn’t going to do you right—you’re too muscled in the shoulders. Even if we could get the neck and arm size right, you’d bust out of them. Do you like any of these colors?”
“I don’t know what to like.”
“Here.” The man picked up a blue one that reminded Xcor of the backdrop on his phone. “This is good with your eyes. Not that I go that way—but you gotta work with what you got. Do you have any idea of your size?”
“XXXL.”
“We need to be a little more exact.”
― The King
As he wheeled around and settled into his attack stance, the black human salesperson jumped back and put his palms up.
“Forgive me,” Xcor muttered. At least he hadn’t outed one of his weapons.
“No problem.” The handsome, well-dressed man smiled. “You looking for something specific?”
Xcor glanced around, and nearly walked back to that fancy stairwell. “I require a new shirt.”
“Oh, cool, you got a hot date?”
“And pants. And socks.” Come to think of it, he never wore underwear. “And undergarments. And a jacket.”
The salesman smiled and raised a hand as if he were going to clap his customer on the shoulder—but then caught himself as he clearly rethought the contact. “What kind of look are you going for?” he asked instead.
“Clothed.”
The guy paused like he wasn’t sure whether that was a joke. “Ah . . . okay, I can work with non-naked. Plus it’s legal. Come on with me.”
Xcor followed, because he didn’t know what else to do—he’d gotten this ball rolling; there was no reason not to follow through.
The man stopped in front of a display of shirts. “So I’m going to go with the it’s-a-date thing, unless you tell me otherwise. Casual? You didn’t mention a suit.”
“Casual. Yes. But I want to look. . . .” Well, not like himself, at any rate. “Presentable.”
“Then I think what you’re going to want is a button-down.”
“A button-down.”
The guy regarded him steadily. “You’re not from here, are you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I can tell by the accent.” The salesman passed a hand over the dizzying array of folded-up squares with collars. “These are our traditional cuts. I can tell without measuring you that the European stuff isn’t going to do you right—you’re too muscled in the shoulders. Even if we could get the neck and arm size right, you’d bust out of them. Do you like any of these colors?”
“I don’t know what to like.”
“Here.” The man picked up a blue one that reminded Xcor of the backdrop on his phone. “This is good with your eyes. Not that I go that way—but you gotta work with what you got. Do you have any idea of your size?”
“XXXL.”
“We need to be a little more exact.”
― The King
