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“What I know, brother, is you break every goddamned rule for Mac.”
“Back at you, Ry. Difference is, I’ll help you do it.”
“Lor has never been Pri-ya.” Ryodan shakes his head in disgust. “The princess can’t turn us. Son of a bitch, Mac’s ass is—”
“Mine,” Barrons says flatly. “You will never go there. You have a problem with Mac, you work it out with me. I am her shield, I am her second fucking skin.”
― Burned
“Back at you, Ry. Difference is, I’ll help you do it.”
“Lor has never been Pri-ya.” Ryodan shakes his head in disgust. “The princess can’t turn us. Son of a bitch, Mac’s ass is—”
“Mine,” Barrons says flatly. “You will never go there. You have a problem with Mac, you work it out with me. I am her shield, I am her second fucking skin.”
― Burned
“But we have to—
No we don’t.
But we can’t—
Yes we can.
But she doesn’t—
She’ll figure it out.
But it’s—
Not your fault and not your problem.
But I’m the one—
Bloody hell, Ms. Lane, how many “buts” are you going to throw at me besides the only one I want?”
― Burned
No we don’t.
But we can’t—
Yes we can.
But she doesn’t—
She’ll figure it out.
But it’s—
Not your fault and not your problem.
But I’m the one—
Bloody hell, Ms. Lane, how many “buts” are you going to throw at me besides the only one I want?”
― Burned
“Little testy tonight?”
“That woman’s boobs do not belong in your face.”
“It’s not as if I can see yours at the moment.”
“Well, you’re damn well going to feel them. Soon.”
“One hopes,” he murmurs.”
― Burned
“That woman’s boobs do not belong in your face.”
“It’s not as if I can see yours at the moment.”
“Well, you’re damn well going to feel them. Soon.”
“One hopes,” he murmurs.”
― Burned
“If you introduce yourself to anyone as Mrs. Dracula, I'll bite you in a manner you won't enjoy.”
― Twice Tempted
― Twice Tempted
“In bed, I steal moments of tenderness when sex has finally exhausted me to the point where I’m too bone weary to fret anymore about the enormous capacity for evil that’s taken up squatter’s rights inside me. I touch him, put all those things I don’t say into my hands as I trace the red and black tattoos on his skin, the sharp planes and hollows of his face, bury my hands in his dark hair. He watches me in silence when I do, eyes dark, unfathomable.
I sometimes wake up to find he’s pulled me close to him and is holding me, spooned into my back with his face in my hair, and those hands that don’t speak like mine don’t speak move over my skin and tell me I’m cherished, honored, seen.”
― Burned
I sometimes wake up to find he’s pulled me close to him and is holding me, spooned into my back with his face in my hair, and those hands that don’t speak like mine don’t speak move over my skin and tell me I’m cherished, honored, seen.”
― Burned
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