Cyrese Covelli

“You really shouldn’t have come,” Lord Blackthorne said, his hand slipping across my faceto cup my jaw, fingers brushing my cheek. I shrieked, shrinking back and kicking at my captorwith stocking-covered feet. “Such a pretty child, in such an ugly place. Tell me, do you thinkyour dear husband would mind if I stole a kiss from the bride?”Kicking him in the shin, I spun, making him release me. I climbed off whatever I’d landedon, aiming my palms out and wishing that I could see what the heck was happening. Flamesfrom dozens of candles blinked at me as they lit with the power of my mind. Lord Blackthornetouched my shoulder, his other hand curving around the bodice of my gown, toying with thebeading along the neckline.”

“How do you know me, girl?” He asked, his voice caked with venom. There was movement from the curtains and the throng of vamps seemed to cry out as one, in a sound of pure surprise.My head turned towards the figure of a young man. He looked like an angel, dressed in white and gold, but whether that was because he caused Petrel to stop or the flickering candlelight from the sconces above us, I couldn’t say.”

“After a moment, he found my neck, kissing the nape, his teeth grazing my skin and causingme to make a small noise very much like a whimper. Before I could take another breath, hislips met mine and I was lost to his touch.”

“In innocence, she’ll light the fireAnd set ablaze the fun’ral pyreAnd one shall rise and one shall fall,By hand of she who’ll lead them all.Marked twice by beast in time of rage,And born again as the Wolfsmage.A house of magic be undoneBy she who can remake the sun.”

“Simple and predictable seem pretty darn tantalizing when you’re a witch.Lately, I’ve wished for a lot of things to be the way they were. Gone are my lustfor the macabre and the sweetly sinful fantasies of meeting a vampire. Somethingabout unconscious people slumped against the dark leather of the booths atcrimson made it less sexy.”

“Linsey pulled away, smiling in a way that would have made him look almostangelic if it wasn’t for the blood smeared around his mouth. When he licked his lips clean, the angelic image became clearer. Blood welled up from two small cuts on his bottom lip, pooling in the full sweep his skin. I knew it wasn’t just my blood that I’d tasted.”

“(On her son) I've met writer's block. He is short, diapered and keeps unplugging my laptop. Good news: he can be conquered with a bottle and a nap.”

“Writer's block doesn't exist...lack of imagination does.”