965 Quotes by Karen Marie Moning

I didn’t want to hide the memory from you. I wanted to cram it down your goddamn throat. I wanted to force you to face it, to want it, to want me, to be willing to fight for what was possible between us with the same single-minded devotion as you fucked. Well, Ms. Lane, you’ve got your precious memory back. Will you throw me away now?

Where are you? Touch me.”I slip my hand into his, and for a moment he just stands there, looking down at where I am, then he closes his eyes and laces strong fingers with mine. I hear exactly what he’s not saying in them: You better bring your ass back to me, woman.I reply with mine, Always.He laughs softly then somehow finds my face and kisses me, light and fast, and I taste him on my lips, need him again, hard and fast and soon.

Then we’re on the same page. Same paragraph, same sentence,” I snapped. “Same bloody word,” he agreed flatly.

I whirled and locked gazes with him, shucked my pride, doffed my prickly alpha stubbornness and said, You are my world, Jericho Barrons. Not him. Never him.

I’ve had a long life. You haven’t. You love your family. Go to another world. Find a…a husband—” He broke off and that rattle began deep in his chest. His next words came out thickly, around fangs. “Have children. Rebuild the human race. Live all those dreams you used to have.” “Used to,” I agreed, nipping his full lower lip. “Don’t anymore. Can’t even conceive of them. You’re my dream.

Why should I let you take it?” “Because you owe me.” “Why do I owe you?” “Because I put up with you.

Your heels are damaging my rug. It’s an eighty-thousand-dollar rug.”I say, “You like me in heels. Money doesn’t signify anymore. And at least I’m not burning holes in it.”“A wiser woman wouldn’t remind me of that time. I’m still pissed about it.

Have you been in a fight? No, let me guess; you saved a wounded dog, again?” I said dryly. That was the excuse he’d used last time. “I had a nosebleed.” “Nosebleed, my petunia.” “Petunia?” “Ass, Barrons. As in you are one.

There are currently three places to obtain food in Dublin, where the prices vary according to whim: Chester’s, the Fae, and the black market. If you ask me, they’re all black. Of course nobody does ask me because nobody sees me because I lay low all the time and I’ve got a boyfriend who isn’t much for talking.I snort. I just thought of Jericho Barrons as my “boyfriend.” I doubt that cataclysm was ever a boy and he certainly can’t be called friendly.It’s official. I’m losing it.