661 Quotes by Storm Constantine

The cruel bitterness of the drink drew claws down Khaster’s throat. He craved that feeling. It was as if a creature were captive in his brain, punching his skull, trying to get out. But he did not fall as his companion had suggested. The Red Witch cleared his sight. Every sense felt honed, alert, precise.

He was like the light of the sun itself, so beautiful and golden. But like the sun, his heat was fierce and merciless. He was powerful enough to give life, but could take it too.

The Witch clenched her claws in his brain. Be cool, he told her.

Khaster could feel the blood beating in every inch of his veins. He could see its red building behind his eyes.

Bayard again eyed him speculatively, perhaps thinking that there was a new creature to snare, to use. Bayard always need plenty of creatures to deal with the intrigues at court.

He hated the false intimacy, the insincere concern.

The prince’s group had a teenage boy with them, a girlish creature, clearly a carnal toy. He was a pretty thing with long white blond hair and the eager, willing manner of a puppy. He smiled, laughed, pushed back his hair flirtatiously.

Sing a lust song,” Bayard said. “Sing it for me.

He knew his part and opened his mouth to sing a sweet song, of love and of luse also. The men started to sing along with him, then Bayard’s arms snaked out and dragged the boy onto his lap. Khaster saw the panic in the boy’s eyes, the urge to struggle, to escape, hampered by the knowledge it was a prince who held him. If Bayard wanted him, he must comply. This was his function. Khaster swallowed hard. He did not want to see this. It sickened him.