But no one has seen a trace of lightbearers in over five hundred years. Somebody wiped them out. Probably our kind, trying to inherit their magic.”“Probably our kind eating them for dinner,” Finn contributed to the conversation for the first time. “Back then we were slightly more primal.”“Slightly,” Tanner remarked tongue in cheek.
Because I loved you!" she shouted. "Because I didn't want to let you go! Because I didn't want to lose you!" She hadn't realized she was crying until her voice hitched and she felt the tears on her cheeks. She swiped at them impatiently. "I have never fought for anything in my life because I never had anything worth fighting for, but I was going to fight for you.
Martha Ridgley had been a single, working-class woman with no children or close family. Her killer had never been caught, and her case was eventually forgotten.But not by everyone—not by whoever had been paying the rent on Apartment #37 for over two decades until, for one reason or another, the lease was finally up.The Woman in Apartment #37byJohn MeadfromBook of the Dead
WEST SALEM ~ October 2011A sudden vision, fraught with malevolence and darkness, obscured her sight. The face of a menacing figure turned from the shadows of his grisly handiwork and stared at Sorcha.Her muscles tensed. By the Goddess, could he see her?Please! No!She wanted to scream, to run, but the vision ensnared her into the horrific moment like a fly in a spider's web.
The frame of the mirror was a deep mahogany and carved with an intricate design of what appeared in the dim light to be leaves and vines. The mirror’s surface was clouded with dust and age, so much that Quinn could not even see his own reflection. On impulse, he rubbed a small circle with the back of his wrist but beneath the dust the glass was still milky and unclear. ~ "The Mirro
It’s a long shot, but this baby is pretty cool.” He pushed the button that brought up the menu. “I need to run a search.”“Of course, master,” the computer said with an inviting smile. “Which pornographic material should I seek out today?”Dante grinned. “Really? You can do that?” He felt Meg’s stare. “Nothing like that.
The glove suddenly feels much heavier, now, more dense. The rush of power didn’t come through me, but wrapped around me; invisible and strangely empty, like a purely mechanical force. It wasn’t like I just got stronger; it was separate from me, like something stepped in and punched him instead of me. I pull the glove off gingerly, half afraid I’ll punch my own fingers off.
Taking a deep breath that smelled of rain, she was poised to move when a hand clasped her elbow. Memories of another hand grabbing her sent panic shooting through her veins.She swung around."Whoa. You okay?" Lucas lightened his clasp around her arm.Kylie caught her breath and stared up at the werewolf's blue eyes. "Yeah. You just...surprised me. You need to whistle when you come up on me.
Behind a barbed-wire fence, a dirt road disappears into the distance in the pine trees and corners. Lost, dead roads, no ends or remaining purposes, power lines now dead and sagging and forgotten, grown high in weeds and young trees. The trees have entirely encased a speed limit sign, strange sight, nothing so pointless as a speed limit sign in the midst of dense woods, pointless and beautifully so.
Safeguard your weaknesses, for your enemy will always use them against you. But more importantly …” He raised a single bony finger, waving it rhythmically to the cadence of his words. “Safeguard your true strengths. If he knows not what you are capable of, he will always underestimate you.” He fixed his unflinching eyes on mine. “And you are not to be underestimated.
Lo bueno de ser inmortal es que no puedes beber literalmente hasta caerte muerto, como lo hacen los niñatos universitarios de vez en cuando. Lo malo de ser inmortal es que no puedes beber hasta caerte muerto; y entonces, al despertar a la mañana siguiente o incluso un día más tarde, te toca comerte la resaca que te habrías ahorrado si hubieras tenido la suerte de morir.
Easy…kelis,” he whispered, sweat beading his brow. “I want to savor this moment. And this…” Darién licked over Jenera’s lips with his tongue, planting small kisses at each corner before trailing over to her ear and he nibbled on her lobe. “I will fire you gently, simmer you sweetly,” he breathed, smiling against her throat. “And burn you completely.
...I don't know what marriages are like on your plane. I know Fae marriages can be all about respect and treating your wife like a lady. That's crap, love. You're my wife. I'm going to do all sorts of filthy things to you because you belong to me. You're my little toy. I'm going to fuck you as often as I can and in as many ways as my filthy mind can come up with. That's a strong marriage.
Sometimes, there aren't any good choices. Sometimes, making the right one is hard... It's funny, but when you think about it, we're all broken. That's what life does. It knocks you down and breaks you and you either get back up again, or you don't. You either do things on your terms, or you don't. You let the bad things win, or you don't.""You either let it break you, or you don't.
This isn't television! This isn't a movie! Giles and Buffy aren't gonna appear and show us how to deal with our wonderful new powers! Some fricking owl isn't gonna come sailing in through your window from Hogwarts! There's no Dumbledore! The Cullens aren't gonna show up and invite you to live with them in Forks! There's nothing! This isn't make believe! This is it! It's us and only us.
