We Draytons are many things: pirates, witches, rogues...but nobody ever accused us of being ungrateful. A family has to have standards. Even in the Edge.
Ilona AndrewsMots clés eleonore
I stopped the blade two inches before it touched Andrea’s neck. Because she was my best friend, and sticking knives into your best friend’s windpipe was generally considered to be a social faux pas.
Ilona AndrewsAs I walked back to civilization, I realized that for the first time in the six months I had known Curran, we had managed to have a conversation and part ways without wanting to kill each other. I found that fact deeply troubling.
Ilona AndrewsCurran scrutinized Mart’s face. “I can’t figure out if he wants to kill you or screw you.”
“I’ll be glad to make the choice for him.”
Curran looked back at me. “Why is it you always attract creeps?”
“You tell me.” Ha! Walked right into that one, yes, he did.
Some people had attack dogs. Ghastek had attack lawyers.
Ilona AndrewsSophie raised her head. Light filtering through the trees dappled her face. “Hawk.”
Charlotte looked up as well. A bird of prey soared above the treetops, circling around them.
“It’s dead,” Sophie said. “George is guiding it. He is very powerful.”The realization washed over Charlotte in a cold gush of embarrassment.
“Is George spying on Richard and me?”
“Always,” Sophie said.
“All those perfect manners are a sham. He spies on everyone and everything. Declan hasn’t been able to conduct a single business meeting in the past year without George’s knowing all the details. He does let go when you make love. He is a prude.”
“‘Prude’ is a coarse word. He has a sense of tact,” Charlotte corrected before she caught herself.
“A sense of tact,” Sophie repeated, tasting the words.
“Thank you. The other one is somewhere around here, too.”
“The other one?”
Sophie surveyed the woods. “I can smell you, Jack!”
“No, you can’t,” a distant voice answered
Mots clés humorous
You don't cause problems. An unpiloted vampire causes problems. You cause catastrophes.
Ilona AndrewsHey, dickhead!" one of the other drivers yelled. "Get off the road!"
"This here is a Falcon Seven," the rider told him. "I can put a bolt through your windshield and pin you to your seat like a bug."
A direct threat, huh? Okay.
I pulled down my sunglasses a bit so the rider would see my eyes. "That's a nice crossbow."
He glanced in my direction. He saw a friendly blond girl with a big smile and a light Texas accent and didn't get alarmed.
"You've got what, a seventy-five-pound draw on it? Takes you about four seconds to reload?"
"Three," he said.
I gave him my Order smile: sweet grin, hard eyes, reached over to my passenger seat, and pulled out my submachine gun. About twenty-seven inches long, the HK was my favorite toy for close-quarters combat. The rider's eyes went wide.
"This is an HK UMP submachine gun. Renowned for its stopping power and reliability. Cyclic rate of fire: eight hundred rounds per minute. That means I can empty this thirty-round clip into you in less than three seconds. At this range, I'll cut you in half." It wasn't strictly true but it sounded good. "You see what it says on the barrel?"
On the barrel, pretty white letters spelled out PARTY STARTER.
"You open your mouth again, and I'll get the party started."
The rider clamped his jaws shut.
Mots clés andrea-nash
I took the jacket off, changed my T-shirt for a dark gray tank top, slipped on the tangle of the back sheath, and put the jacket on again. Thugs are us. Great. Just add a super-tight ponytail and loads of mascara, and I’d be ripe to play a supervillain’s evil mistress. Ve haf vays of making you gif us your DNA sample.
Ilona AndrewsFor a second I thought I might actually be alive,” I said, looking at Nick’s unshaven face. “Now I know— I’ve gone to Hell and you’re my nursemaid.
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