Twilight Vows (Wings in the Night #6) In Time (The Darkest Minds #1.5)
Jane! I started to run towards her to save her, but Jack wrapped his arm around me and stopped me.
The desire started as a fireball in my gut—igniting my blood until my entire body set alight with furious lust.I needed to take Tess ruthlessly and painfully. I needed to remember who I truly was at heart. My arms banded around her. I’m going to make you remember who I am, mon coeur. My heart.
The Arrangement 5 (The Arrangement #5)
My mouth stole hers. Our naked bodies slammed together, our fingers clawing at delicate skin. Her lips opened, submitting to my tongue as I licked inside her. I groaned as she kissed me back. Her hands skated over me, dragging me forward as her nails scratched down my spine.My lips latched harder onto hers, kissing so deep. I wanted to crawl into her soul and capture her forever. The monster inside—the one who I’d forced to lay dormant for weeks—roared back to life.The sickly need slithered in my blood, whispering of violence.
Flyte (Septimus Heap #2)
I shook my head, dispelling the rapidly building darkness. I would let him play, but I wouldn’t let him rule. Not now. Not ever. My darling esclave was pregnant. She could handle our fucked-up love, but she couldn’t handle total annihilation.My fingers crept up, latching around her throat. Her muscles worked hard as she swallowed.
Do you like destroying me, Tess? Is that why you called me here to hurt you? I ran my nose down her cheek, inhaling the scent of expensive hotel soap.
She squeaked as I spun her around, pressing her chest into the bed and keeping her ass locked against my aching cock. Answer me.The setting had changed, but the setup hadn’t: A large visiting room where the girls had to parade around in whatever passed for sexy at the time. A gaudy, ornate staircase leading to a long hallway of doors upstairs. Every door led to a small room that contained only a bed and a chair. Unlike most brothels, there were no security guards here, no bouncers. It wasn’t necessary. Abuse of the girls was not only expected, but welcome, and no one knew that better than the girls themselves. It didn’t matter where they came from, what cultures or languages or backgrounds. They first thing they were taught in their new lives was never fight back. And they didn’t. They couldn’t. The magic didn’t let them. She had been an anomaly that way.
She arrived in the most expensive outfit she owned: a scarlet-red pantsuit with nothing underneath, so that the suit jacket gaped almost to her navel. It was sexy, and made her look like she had money and power, which she did. Female clients may have been rare at the brothel, but it was common enough that her presence didn’t even raise an eyebrow, just welcoming smiles. The female manager began to lead her into the visiting room, and for a moment she felt a sharp slash of panic. She could see the girls posed around the room, holding watery drinks and making small talk with listless smiles and empty eyes. Many young women in their position took something to numb the senses, but no drugs in the world would work on these girls.She felt the familiar urge to fight, to snap the manager’s neck and run out of there, but she reminded herself that she was no longer property. She gave the aging woman her name and explained that she was not here for a date, but to see the owner. They were old friends. The manager paused and eyed her with renewed speculation. Then she simply shrugged and walked over to a black telephone.
Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage (Mackenzies & McBrides #2)
Within moments she was being led into his office.He looked the same, of course. Why wouldn’t he? True, the cut of his suit was different, and his hair was brushed straight back instead of parted in the middle. But he had the same powerful movements and calculating eyes that were always judging the value of goods. Those eyes took in her suit and her heels and her warm, apologetic smile, and concluded that she was exactly who she’d claimed to be: an old friend, looking to make amends. He was arrogant enough to believe it.
Vampires did not hug, but she came around the desk and moved to kiss him on each cheek, in accordance with European fashion. He had always loved that continental bullshit. He smiled genially and reached for her. As she’d expected, he turned his head to kiss her on the mouth, testing her compliance. She forced herself to melt against him, her arms winding around his neck.While his slimy tongue probed her mouth, her fingers worked the makeshift clasp of the bracelet. She was proud of the garrote, which she’d fashioned herself out of titanium cord and oak. The sharpened wire was strong enough to cut through even vampire bone. She had practiced on a tree stump. When he pulled back to leer at her, she smiled as sweetly as she could, flipping one end of the weapon around his neck with supernatural speed. She had drawn it tight and begun to pull before confusion even registered in his eyes. Fast as he was, by the time he got his fingers up to claw at the garrote string, it was too late. She pulled with every bit of her considerable strength, and the garrote snapped the bone of his spine. His head was turning to dust before it hit the tacky shag carpet.
Later, some of her accusers would argue that her actions were a treacherous betrayal of her own kind. They insisted that she should have challenged him to an honorable fight. But she didn’t care about being honorable. She cared about him being dead.What is that thing? came a disgusted voice from across the table.
I smoothed the sweat-dampened hair off my forehead so I could lift my gaze to the speaker. It was nearly dinnertime, but the heat from the day seemed to linger in the air, making our table at the Downtown LA Art Walk almost unbearable. If that weren’t uncomfortable enough, a ray of sunlight had managed to find a crack between skyscrapers and was rapidly intruding across my table like a three-foot melanoma laser. I knew from experience that in a few minutes it was gonna hit me right in the eyes.Despite the heat, the woman standing in front of me was immaculate, a heroin-thin fortyish blonde with a Prada bag in the crook of her elbow. Her perfectly made-up eyes were fixed on Shadow, who was curled up on the sidewalk, her chin resting on my foot. I think the woman’s features were trying to convey revulsion, but they were having a hard time fighting through all the Botox. Shadow, for her part, cracked open one eyelid, glanced at the woman, and went back to sleep. I was suddenly very jealous.