Linsey

“Has he lost his mind?” He dipped lower, sliding his lips against the soft patch of skin beneath her ear, inhaling her clean, night-flower scent. “Yes.” Unable to stop himself, he scraped his razor-sharp fangs against her skin, scoring lightly just enough to see red pebbles in a line. “He has lost his mind,” he whispered on a rasp. Her fingers curled at his shoulders. She sighed when he tongued the strip of blood away. “He has lost his body and soul, too.” He sucked her pretty earlobe, going rock-hard at her whimpering gasp. “You’ve gotten your claws in deep, kitten.” He trailed his mouth up her jaw, sliding his fingers up her nape and cupping her head to keep her where he wanted her. “And I’m bleeding inwardly.” Gently, he nipped at her bottom lip, sucking it between his lips and letting it slide out slowly. “I’m quite ready to die at your feet, if you’ll only give yourself to me.”
― Juliette Cross, The White Lily

“Outside the cabin, a dull pop resounded in the quietude. As Zachariah’s bio-organic soul plummeted into eternal darkness, he thought of sparrows, and wondered if God had seen him fall…”
― Bobby Underwood, The Sapphire Sea

“I held her in my arms and rocked her back and forth. I cried until I threw up. Then I went back to rocking my darling again, weeping beneath the early morning Mexican sun.”
― Bobby Underwood, The Sapphire Sea

“The victim was white, in his early thirties, five feet eleven inches tall, ten and a half stone in weight, and in good physical condition. The last part always irritated Banks: how could a corpse ever be in good physical condition ?”
― Peter Robinson, The Hanging Valley