Jennifer Trantham

“Bring the ex-Consort to me.” “Curran!” I backed away from the railing. “Curran, help!” Laughter exploded in the bedroom. Bastard. •”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Binds

“You’re the least power-hungry person I’ve ever met. You’re also the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Disrespectful. Mouthy.” “You mean independent and proactive in taking initiative.” “That,”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Binds

“Yes,” Curran said. “We’d like you to officiate.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We’d like you to marry us,” I said.

Roman’s eyes went wide. He pointed to himself. “Me?”

“Yes,” Curran said.

“Marry you?”

“Yes.”

“You do know what I do, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “You’re Chernobog’s priest.”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Binds

“When some supernatural filth tries to carry off the children, call Roman so he can wade through blood and sewage to rescue them, but when it’s something nice like a wedding or a naming, oh no, we can’t have Chernobog’s volhv involved. It’s bad luck. Get Nikolai. When he finds out who I’m going to marry, he’ll have an aneurysm. His head will explode. It’s good that he’s a doctor, maybe he can treat himself.”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Binds