Bring it on, Tinker Bell.
karen-marie-moning barrons
There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims.
mac karen-marie-moning barrons
You're leaving me, Rainbow Girl.
mac barrons
Last night you said you wanted to know what to expect so you could better select your attire. I told you we were going to visit a vampire in a Goth-den tonight. Why, then, Ms. Lane, do you look like a perky rainbow?
When you know who I am. Let me be your man.
I'm not the hero, Mac. Never have been. Never will be. Let us be perfectly clear: I'm not the antihero, either, so quit waiting to discover my hidden potential. There's nothing to redeem me.
Oh ye of little faith. Not for IYD.. But you didn't even try.
Ancient eyes had stared at me, filled with ancient grief. And something more. Something so alien and unexpected that I'd almost burst into tears. I'd seen many things in his eyes in the time that I'd known him: lust, amusement, sympathy, mockery, caution, fury. But I had never seen this. Hope. Jericho Barrons had hope, and I was the reason for it. I would never forget his smile. It had illuminated him from the inside out.
And you can tell Darroc that Ms. Lane is mine. If he wants her, he can bloody well come and get her
You hated my rainbows, now you don't like my leather. Is there anything you like on me?
Had he stood outside my door as I'd stood outside his, fists at his sides, lips drawn back? Did it have him as bad as it had me? Was it eating at him, gnawing at him with the same sharp vicious little teeth that wouldn't let me sleep? Yes, it was. I could see the rage of insatiable uninvited lust in every line of that dark, stoic face that had once been too subtly etched for me to read. I wasn't the only one lying awake at night, fevered with memories, tossing, turning, soaking my sheets, burning up--not for Fae sex, but him, damn it all to hell, him.
Unpredictable as a hungry lion, he might be feared by everyone else, but he never ripped out my throat, only licked me, and, if his tongue was a little rough sometimes, it was worth it to walk beside the king of the jungle.
Jericho Barrons just told me he loves me.
Barrons had just given me the most carnal, sexually charged hungry look I'd ever seen in my life, and I was pretty sure he didn't even know he had done it.
Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
Being nearly naked around Barrons felt a lot like going to a shark convention lightly basted in blood.
If you are not with me, you are against me. I have no mercy for my enemies.
You need me as much as I need you. That makes us equal partners in my book. Well, your book is just wrong.
I hammered him with my fists. He just stood and took it. He didn't suffer graciously, he looked pissed off to no end. But he let me hit him. And he didn't hit me back.
Woman, you are a thousand kinds of fool.
He'd surely been spawned by some cataclysmic event of nature, not born.
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.
He just didn't look like the kind of creep that would messily murder a woman in her hotel room; he looked like the kind of creep that could line her up in the sights of an assassins rifle without a shred of emotion.
If I have to chain you to a fucking wall to protect you from your own stupidity, I will!Wrists. Beam. Chained already Barrons. Come up with a new threat.
He wasn't just masculine and sexual, he was carnal in a set-your-teeth-on-edge kind of way; he was almost frightning.
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