I curl my hand around her throat so her heart beats right into my palm,” Fyodor confessed as if he could read Timur’s mind. “Even that isn’t enough. I can hear my own heart beating right over top of hers because I’m terrified living with the idea that I could lose her”.
Blythe was Viktor’s in. He’d arranged a casual meeting and swept her off her feet. He was good with women. He knew exactly how to read them and what they wanted and needed. He was good at providing.
His team consisted of a group of mavericks. They were cohesive when they needed to be, but their strength was their individual thinking. Many of their enhancements enabled them to do their jobs better alone then in a group. The idea had been that the GhostWalkers easily could do teamwork or perform alone.
Blythe turned the tables on him. She was genuine. Sweet. Protective. Nurturing. Everything he’d never had and didn’t know he needed or wanted. It was impossible not to love her.
They were coarse and crude. They made rude finger gestures to one another and they were their scars like badges. They were a family, unbreakable, loyal and absolutely powerful when they stood together.
That kind of loyalty could never be bought. Fear couldn’t buy that loyalty. Timur was reminded of that every time he saw the two men. They weren’t related by blood, but they were brothers all the same.
He liked that she gave the questions thought. That she actually saw the mysteries and worked at solving them.
For the first time in his life, his body chose. He chose. His choice was her. Anya Rafferty.
I belong to you, devochka moya. Everything I am and will ever be. My heart. My body. I belong to you and I want you to be familiar with what is yours.
The last child is secure. The phrase to remove him from the safety circle is Curious George likes his bike.
There was kindness in her and compassion. Two characteristics he didn’t have. Or at least, not in abundance. He was the perfect killing machine. He didn’t need to feel bad. Once unleashed, set on a course, he followed it until it was done.
Emma, I’ll never be easy. I won’t. I’m not going to pretend your life will be a bed of roses, but I can tell you that no man will ever need you more, or want you more, or love you more than I will.
He wouldn’t give up on her. He was prepared to do anything, fight any battle. No matter if the act was forbidden or not, if he could get her back, he would humble himself, put himself in any kind of jeopardy or fight any battle to save her.
He fought for his country, but mostly he fought for the people in his country so they had freedom to make choices. He just hoped they’d be good ones.
Her heart was so full, she was afraid it might burst. She had never dared to dream she would have a home and a family. She had never conceived of having friends. Life might never be perfect, but she had Nicolae, and he would always understand those terrible moments when the memories crept out from behind the doors in her mind. He would be there to hold her and help her.
He hoped they were wrong, but he had a bad feeling, that nagging one that always told him he was right. He didn’t like knowing, but that radar had saved not only him, but his fellow GhostWalkers on more than one occasion.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her like she was his and had been for years. Like he was a man dying and she was his greatest love. He felt like she was. Shylah Cosmos. His only little peony. His delicate flower. Dependable. Long-lived.
You have to commit to us. Just like you’re part of Torpedo Ink, I have to be part of you. You have to be all in.
Her mouth was a miracle, plain and simple. Heaven. He had never believed in heaven or God until that moment. Until he found it in her.
She had the faint taste of sass and sweet. Lethal and home. The combination was deadly to a man like him.