Naught will be done to you that you doona wish done. Dageus MacKeltar.
I’m a bartender. I like recipes. They’re concretes. Was the drink recipe for seduction one shot charm and two shots self-deception, shaken, not stirred?
She’s thirteen. Time will remedy that.
If he’d been any other man and i’d been any other girl, I’d have called the narrowing of his heavy-lidded dark eyes lust. But he was Barrons and I was Mac, and a blossoming of lust was about as likely as orchids blooming in Antarctica.
Bedevil the devil and devil be dammed. I fear no devil and bow to no man. – Adam Black.
Revenge. They took too much. You give up and die, or learn how to take back.
All my life, up until that moment, I’d had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.
His heavy-lidded gaze reflected a languor that had nothing to do with having just awakened, and there was no doubt what was on his mind. But this is no safe cherry picker, Gwen thought, growing more concerned by the moment. This man looks like a cherry tree chopper-downer.
He stepped into the morning feeling more alive than he’d felt in months. Hold fast and believe in me, love, he whispered across the centuries. Because love and belief were serious magic in and of themselves.
I’d vowed years ago to go to the grave the same way I’d been born, just a lot more wrinkly.
I have found there to be little distance between the unlatching of a chain and the spreading of a woman’s legs. As if they can never unbar only a single entrance. It’s a disease called hope. Women suffer from it greatly.
I think dating courtesies are common courtesies that should be practiced in most all civilized encounters. I pine for the days of good, old-fashioned manners.
Sometimes the small pleasures in life are the sweetest.
I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.
Safety is a fence, and fences are for sheep. I would rather die at twenty-two, knowing the truth, then live in a cage of lies for a hundred years.
If he were any other man, I might have suspected him of substance abuse, of being coked up or something. But Barrons was too much a purist for that; his drugs were money, power, and control.
Life’s not linear at all. It happens in lighting flashes. So fast you don’t see those lay-you-out cold moments coming at you until you’re Wile E. Coyote, steamrolled flat as a pancake by the Road Runner, victim of your own elaborate schemes.
Being nearly naked around Barrons felt a lot like going to a shark convention lightly basted in blood.
Nuns? They’d take one look at Barrons and decide the devil himself had come knockng. He not only looked dangerous, he emanated something that made even me feel like crossing myself sometimes, and I’m not religious.
All those ‘bloodys’ was a veritable cornucopia of emotion for Barrons.