He tasted like love to her. Like everything sensual. Dark, dangerous and wholly wonderful.
Patience is the warrior’s true weapon – a thousand patient breaths bring victory.
To the rest of the world, she was samurai, to Sam, she was love.
She had thrown his life into complete confusion, but she made him smile. Made him want to laugh. Intrigued him. Turned him inside out. Gave him a reason to live.
Still, he knew this ritual, for Azami, was much more. She was giving herself to him, declaring herself, in her own way, to be his. That he was her choice. However she treated him in public, without expression, no hand holding, no kissing, there would be this behind closed doors. To the rest of the world, she was samurai, to Sam, she was love.
She stood there a moment, just looking at him. Jackson Deveau. The badass from the bayou everyone was so afraid of. Her Jackson. The man who was slowly, carefully, bringing her back to life.
The gate will swing open in welcome for the man who is destined to become the love of the eldest child’s life.
Elle burst out laughing. He really was big bad Jackson, but hidden underneath all that steel muscle and the cold black eyes was something altogether different that no one, not even her sisters, suspected. He hid the gentle giant very well beneath that blue-jeaned devil.
She had a beautiful mouth. Wide and full and curved as if she laughed all the time. Or invited kisses. The thought came unbidden as he stared at her mouth. Sheer temptation.
My lifemate is the most beautiful woman on this earth to me. Anyone who says differently insults her, which is a capital offense and insults me.
He lifted his head, his gaze moving over her face. “I love looking at you,” he admitted. “Every single tiny detail of your face and body is etched into my brain for all time. I want to wake up every morning looking at you and go to sleep at night with you right beside me. When I die, Cayenne, I want you holding me and looking at me, right in my eyes, so I take that last sight of you with me.
Ilya shrugged. “I’m going to marry Joley, so you’d better get used to the idea of having me around.” “She know that?” Jonas asked, somewhat mollified. “Not yet. She has a few issues with me.
The truth was, Sevastyan wanted a woman of his own. A partner. A woman to love. A woman who held the mate for his leopard. That same gift his cousins had. He doubted if that was going to ever happen for him. His father and Mitya’s father both had seen to that with their torture and deviant training.
The past wouldn’t let her go, not her love for him and not her memories of his betrayal. “I remember.” She choked out the words against his throat. “Can you hear me screaming in pain? Can you, Sasha? It’s so deep I can’t ever get it out and it’s locked inside me forever.” He crushed her to him. “Yes. I’m screaming too.” He held her, staying to the shadows, his face buried in her silken hair.
I can imagine you with me in the swamp, helping to raise our sons, shotgun right at your side, everywhere you go.” “Daughters.” “Baby. Really? I’m a manly man and I have manly sperm, the kind that only throws sons. Way, way too much testosterone for the female children. You’re going to have to let that dream go.” “I have my heart set on daughters, so you’re going to have to tone down the male craziness and get the feminine vibe going.
I don’t want to crush your heart, sweetheart, but, aside from the fact that it would be impossible for a man like me to do that, it’s just plain not happening. I’d kill any idiot who was dumb enough to try to date a daughter of mine.” “If they were anything like me, you’d be more than happy to pay someone to take them off your hands.” She giggled.
Sandu was well aware love started in one’s mind. It stayed there. Good times, bad times, if you wanted that love to remain alive, you had to keep it forever safe in the mind.
She took a breath, braced herself and turned slightly to look at Jonas. Florentine gold looked back at her. The air left her lungs in a rush of heat. Those eyes held intelligence. A predatory, very focused stare. They devoured her hungrily. Almost possessively. “He paired us. Whitney. He paired us.” His voice was a blend of smoke and the wild of the forest. “Even if he hadn’t, I would still think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
My life has never been my own. I’ve got all the money in the world, and nothing that I want. Until you. I want you. You’re what I want for myself.
If tomorrow never comes, today has been all I’ve ever wanted or needed.
Those long endless nights of gray voids, an abyss of hell really, a bleak nothingness, occasionally interrupted by a battle with the undead, there had been no hope left. He had forgotten joy. Laughter. Fun. Maybe he had never known it. Now there was Adalasia with her brightness.