Books can’t be locked up behind glass and beheld from afar. They’re meant to be held and stroked, fondled as you gently turn each and every page to read the next wondrous passage.
Conn was a wickedly passionate, fiercely dominant man who loved her too much to ever really hurt her.
You’re my queen. You’re so far beyond alpha that if you ordered me to cease breathing, I’d die trying.
I’d never had a boyfriend, let alone a date with a full-grown man. But even if I was just an ordinary human woman dating the average Joe, there was no way in hell I’d let him order me about.
Money can open -or close- many doors that your impressive muscles won’t budge.
What am I supposed to do?” “Be true to who you are. That is all. You are controlled chaos. You are She, Goddess incarnate. Live, love, and make magic in the world. Embrace your nature your father and I died to create. Loose the wild hunt. Revel in the blood of your enemies. Some will worship you. Others will fear you. And no one will be able to stop you.
Mount Vesuvius has always been my domain. The hottest hells of the earth cannot touch our kind. Know true darkness by how it embraces your fire, your blood, or both, and beware the bright light of day. “Thank you, Father.
A switch flipped in him, in her, smoldering from his eyes to her body. “Do you want to find out what I taste like?
All darkness is yours. A male voice I’d never heard before rasped in my head, each word stretched out as if from a great distance. My daughter.
She gave you the Great One’s legacy. I give you dominion over any creature of darkness. The breath of the night wind. The darkest shadow slipping silently through the trees. The silent music that rises from the earth as it cools from the punishing light of day. The paths of death that lead to life. The ways are open to you, Daughter.
Call your monsters, Daughter. Love them. Embrace your darkest hungers, because your love is the light that will keep the darkness safe from the punishing light of Ra.
What this queen takes, she loves, and she keeps safe for all time.
Our queen feeds first. Always. Unless she explicitly offers her blood to you.
You. Are. Queen. My queen apologizes for nothing. Even if you hadn’t resurrected me, I would say the same thing. Kill me. Use me. Drain me dry. I’m yours, body and heart and soul and blood. If you killed me and left me dead, then I would know that I had died in your service and your need had been great.
People preferred to forget the atrocities a powerful man could do to a woman when he wasn’t well pleased with her.
You. Failed. Her. You were going to hurt our queen. And for what? To save me? So what if I die? I’m nothing. You’re nothing. We’re Blood. Dying in service to our queen is the greatest honor of all. You would have dishonored my death by hurting the very person I’m willing to die for.
Watching a hell horse try to tiptoe so his gigantic hooves didn’t ring loudly on the tiled floor and wake our queen made me choke back a laugh.