You could say I'm on the troubleshooting squad."
"Troubleshooting?"
He put a hand on the back of his waistband. "I see trouble and I shoot it.

Karen Chance

Mots clés humor

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You will die a worse death if you do not leave my domain,” a voice thundered down from the third story of the old tenement. “I am a servant of the Sacred Fire, the wielder of the flame of Arnor—”
“So I should call you Gandalf?

Karen Chance

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Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.

Karen Chance

Mots clés blood

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My nerves needed a break, not a reminder of how much trouble we were in. I prowled around, but it didn't help. I still felt like my skin was on too tight.

Karen Chance

Mots clés nerves

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I leaned back in my chair, stretching luxuriantly, delibrately letting my jacket fall open. Predictably, his eyes moved down my body-some things outlast even the change. I grinned and he looked away, a rueful smile twitching at his lips. I finished breakfast in peace.

Karen Chance

Mots clés tease

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This was Dante's. Crazy was what we had for breakfast when we ran out of Corn Flakes

Karen Chance

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To know Pritkin was to want to kill him, but so far I'd resisted temptation.

Karen Chance

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She was the oddest combination of contradictions he'd ever met -innocence and sensuality, candour and diplomacy, anxiety and utter fearlessness. He hadn't even begun to figure out how her mind worked. But she was damn well going to live long enough for him to try.

Karen Chance

Mots clés pritkin-cassie

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After a long time, one small hand moved, slowly, tentatively, tracing the feathers falling around her, stroking the black slashes along one huge wing. She didn't ask where he'd gotten them, didn't ask why they mimicked the marks on his shoulder. She didn't ask, just kept running her soft fingers through the down, along the spines…

"How long will they last?"

"A few hours," he said hoarsely. He should tell her, he thought, that the feathers weren't just a projection. That for the moment for however long the Irin's essence held out, they were an innate, physical part of him. And that her fingers stroking along the marks felt just like they once had, moving over his scars. He ought to tell her, ought to ask her to stop. It's what a gentleman would do, he knew that. But then he was half demon. And tonight, he thought maybe he'd just go with that.

"They're nice," she murmured, pulling one around her.
"Yes." One hand tightened in her thick soft hair. "Yes.

Karen Chance

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I'm about to rupture something," he was informed, as the big, gaily wrapped box she was carrying smacked into the small of his back again. She had an uncanny ability to hit the same spot every time.

Karen Chance

Mots clés pritkin-cassie

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