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359 pages, Hardcover
First published June 1, 2012
The room looked like a set for a slasher flick, with dirty walls; pale paint that might have started as white had flaked away from the bricks, so that the paint debris lay at the base of the walls as if something big had clawed at the walls. The question was, had it been clawing to get in, or get out?
His face already held that darkness, that surety that most men's eyes get at some point when the clothes are coming off and the sex is happening. It's not exactly possessive, but yet it is, but it is predatory .... It wasn't a shapeshifter look, or a vampire look, it was a male look. Maybe women had their own version, but I rarely saw my own face in a mirror during sex, and I had only one other woman to compare to, and she didn't have a look like this one.
We'd finally figured out it was Jean-Claude's vampire marks that kept me from being able to shapeshift for real. Modern lycanthropy wasn't contagious to vampires, and I was just too close to being a vampire thanks to his marks, and my own necromancy. Ancient-strain lycanthropy had been contagious to the undead.
It just giggled me, and I was starting to own the things that made me happy, not because it made sense, or was horribly important, but it was just a happy.
I finally let myself look at that face, and I felt like I had from almost the first moment I’d seen him, that he was simply one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen. The black curls touched the edge of his face, as if bringing attention to the curve of his mouth, the line of his cheek, and those eyes. They always looked blue, but they were so dark. Midnight blue with their double edge of black eyelashes like dark lace to frame the deepest blue I’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes. His eyes were a blue like deep ocean water, where it runs cold and will eventually spill down into something warm and mysterious, where creatures the light has never seen live and thrive. Those gorgeous eyes looked at me, and there was love in them, but the second he saw me in the doorway, walking toward him, there was lust, desire, and just a heat that brought a blush to my face and an answering heat to my own eyes. Six years after we’d first started dating I was still a little amazed that this most lovely of men wanted me so badly. They talked about burning for each other, and we still did. I never seemed to get over the surprise of turning around and seeing him there. You’d think I’d get used to seeing such a beautiful man and knowing he was mine, but it never grew old, as if his beauty and the fact that he was mine, and I was his, would forever surprise me.Hmm. I think she's trying to describe a MAN with BLUE EYES who is HERS in this scene. I'm not always great at critiquing literature, but I think that's what she was going for. Maybe.
"Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read, but not curiously, and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention."
-- Sir Francis Bacon
English author, courtier, and philosopher (1561 - 1626)
1. Guilty Pleasures
2. Laughing Corpse
3. Circus of the Damned
4. Lunatic Cafe
5. Bloody Bones
6. Killing Dance
7. Burnt Offerings
8. Blue Moon
9. Obsidian Butterfly
10. Narcissus in Chains
11. Cerulean Sins
12. Incubus Dreams
13. Micah (a novella)
14. Danse Macabre
15. The Harlequin
16. Blood Noir
17. Skin Trade
18. Flirt (a novella)
19. Bullet
20. Hit List
21. Kiss the Dead
(Part of a conversation between Anita and Jean-Claude.)
"Americans, living and undead, are an odd lot. They value their ideal of freedom beyond anything the rest of us would dream of."
"We're a young country," I said.
"Yes, in another day and age, America would be in their expansive, empire-building stage, but you came of age too late. The world leaders, and military, would never allow such conquest now."
"It would be nice to start keeping some of the land and resources that our soldiers are dying for," I said.
"Ma petite, are you a secret imperialist?"
"Just tired of watching our guys and girls die on the news, and have nothing to show for it except body bags."
"You have the freedom and gratitude of the people you are helping," he said, voice very mild.
I laughed. "Yeah, they're so grateful they keep trying to blow us up."
"It is an odd moment in history that America comes of age, that I will agree." (pg 61)
