Karen Marie Moning

“She was tipping her head back to inquire, when two men entered the great hall and the question flew right out of her head. They were simply two of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen. Twins, though different. They were both tall and powerfully built. One was taller by a few inches, with dark hair that swept just past his shoulders and eyes like shard of silver and ice while the other had long black hair falling in a single braid to his waist, and eyes as gold as Adam's torque. They were elegantly dressed in tailored clothing of dark hues, with magnificent bodies that dripped with raw sex appeal. Oh, my, she marveled, they don't amek men like these in the States. Were these typical Scotsmen? If so, she was going to have to get Elizabeth over here somehow. A connoisseur of romance novels, Elizabeth's favorites were the Scottish ones, and these two men looked as if they'd just stepped straight off one of those covers. "Try not to gape, ka-lyrra. They're only human. Mortal. Puny. And married. Both of them. Happily.”

“What's not right about her, Farley?" she asked curiously. An annoyed humph. A few ahems, then a thoroughly miffed, "She's a fine enough lass, that is, when one is able to actually look at her, but"--he broke off with a deeply aggrieved sigh and cleared his throat several times before continuing--"'twould appear she's haveing, er...solidity problems.”

“Mister MacKeltar," Drustan corrected for the umpteenth time, with a this-is-really-wearing-thin-but-I'm-determined-to-be-patient smile. No matter how many times he told Farley that he was not a laird, that he was simply Mr. MacKeltar, that it was Christopher (his modern-day descendant who lived up the road in the oldest castle on the land) who was actually laird, Farley refused to hear it. The eighty-something-year-old butler, who insisted he was sixty-two and who had obviously never before buttled in his life until the day he'd arrived on their doorstep, was determined to be a butler to a lord. Period. And he wasn't about to let Drustan interfere with that aspiration.”

“But apart from that single expensive item, she stayed away from the high-dollar racks. Luxury was all well and good for a Fae prince, but what would she do with a pair of six-hundred-dollar Gucci boots? She'd be afraid to walk in them. Probably trip and break an ankle or something, and wasn't there some old fairy tale about stolen shoes that punished the thief? She knew better than most people that fairy tales had a twisted way of coming true. She slipped into jeans and laced up tennis shoes. A sturdy pair of hiking boots went into the satchel. She was done before he was. Figured. And when he returned, he was wearing dark, tattooed Armani jeans, with a sheer white silk tee and six-hundred dollar Gucci boots. Which also figured.”

“It was a land of shadows and ice.Of gray. And grayer. And black.-The Unseelie prison of Aedan”

“Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart.”

“I am so lonely without you, Aedan," Jane said simply."You truly want me?""More than anything. I'm only half without you.""Then you are my woman." His words were finality, a bond he would not permit broken. She had given herself to his keeping. He would never let her go."And you'll never leave me?" she pressed."I'll stay with you for all of ever, lass."Jane's eyes flared, and she looked at him strangely. "And then yet another day?" she asked breathlessly."Oh, aye.”

“I have no desire to sleep with you. I want to fuck you. And there is no such thing as perfectly good sex.  If it’s “perfectly good,” I mock in falsetto, “he should be shot in the head and put out of everyone’s misery. Sex either blows your fucking mind, or it’s not good enough. You want me to blow your fucking mind, Ms. Lane? Come on.  Do it.  Be a big girl.”

“After he'd gone, she'd suffered a momentary, nearly immobilizing flash of panic--what if the Hunters somehow managed to find her while he was gone?--but it dissipated swiftly, leaving her astonished to realize that she truly trust him to keep her safe, at least from everything besides himself.”

“Hunger for me, ka-lyrra, he thought silently, get addicted to me. I will be both venom and antidote, your poison and your only cure.”

“That part of his body was simply uncontrollable, apparently functioning in accordance to a single law of nature: She existed--he got a hard-on.”

“When one sifts place, ka-lyrra, one comes out on top of whatever currently occupies that space. Which isn't much of a problem if one also has all one's powers. But I don't. We hit a lake somewhere around the ninety-seventh hop. And, contrary to popular belief, I don't walk on water."~Adam to Gabby”

“Her shoes squished with the movement and, as she peered uncomprehendingly down at them, a tadpole emerged from the leg of her jeans and flopped about on the ground. "Eew!" She pointed a shaking finger at it. "A tadpole. I had a tadpole in my pants!""Lucky tadpole," he murmured.”

“I drank some of that lake! I might have choked on a fish or a frog or a...a...a turtle!""It is wisest to keep one's mouth shut while sifting."She skewered him with a frosty stare. "Now you tell me." Damn the fairy, anyway. There she stood, feeling ragtag and bedraggled, and he only looked more beautiful wet, all drippy and shimmery gold-velvet, his hair a wet tangle to his waist. "Come Gabrielle," he said, extending his hand, "we must keep moving. They can track me by what little magic I'm using to sift, but only to a general vicinity. We need to keep sifting, to spread out their search.""Is there anything else it's wisest to do that I should know about before we just pop off again?" She tucked her hands behind her back so he couldn't grab her and just sift rather than answering her. Besides, she needed a minute to brace herself for the next bout of traveling in a manner that defied all the known laws of physics. "You might try kissing me. Better my tongue than a frog, no?" Dark eyes sparking gold, he reached for her. "Close contest.”

“Closing his eyes, he held her tightly and sifted place in a general southerly direction, pushing to the farthest limits his diminished power could carry him. The moment he rematerialized, he instantly sifted again, arms locked around her. Railroad track. Sift. Grocery store. Keep moving. Roof of a house. Sift. Cornfield. Sift. Cornfield. Sift. Cornfield. Sift. Cornfield. Bloody Midwest. Sift.”

“There should be a vaccine against Adam Black. And all women should be given it at birth.”

“She took several slow deep breaths, then, "Okay, what happened to my car?""This is your car.""I may not know much lately," she gritted, "but I do know what I drive. I drive a falling-apart Toyota. A disgustingly powdery-blue one. With lots of rust and no antenna. That is not my car.""Correction. You used to drive a falling apart Toyota, B.A."Had his lips just brushed her hair? She shivered, and though she knew better than to ask, she did it anyways. "Okay, you got me, what's 'B.A.'""Before Adam. After Adam, you drive a BMW.”

“Tuatha De do not walk the human realm alone. Actually, they don't walk alone much anywhere. Only the occasional rogue Fae will do so.""Like yourself?""Yes Most of my kind have no fondness for solitude. Those who walk alone are not to be trusted.""Really," she said dryly. "Except for me," he amended, with a faint, insouciant grin.”

“It had taunted, provoked, brushed its big, hard body against hers at every opportunity, and in general lounged about looking like the epically horny fairy it was reputed to be. ~Gabby's thoughts on Adam”

“How dare the embodiment of her worst nightmare come packaged as her hottest fantasy?”

“Now it's not just my lip you'll be needing to kiss if you're wishing to make amends with me, Irish.”

“Adam arrived at 735 Monroe Street prepared for the woman to be a bit skittish. After all, she'd run from him earlier, obviously intimidated by his overwhelming masculinity and epic sexuality. Women often had that reaction to him, especially when he was stripping off his pants. Or kilt, depending on the century. He was also prepared, however, for her inhibitions to drop swiftly, as did all women's when they got a good, close-up look at him. After that, many simply launched themselves at him in a full-frontal assault of sexual frenzy. He'd been entertaining himself with just that possibility, his entire body tight with lust, while tracking her down with the information he'd obtained int he room called "Human Resources" at Little & Staller. But nothing in his vast repertoire of experience had prepared him for Gabrielle O'Callaghan. The bloodthirsty little hellion didn't react like any woman he'd ever encountered. She took one horrified look at him, drew back her arm, hauled off, and smashed him in the face with some kind of satchel she was holding. Then slammed the door and locked it. Leaving him on the doorstep, bleeding. Bleeding, by Danu, blood trickling from his lip!”

“Sit," Chloe said, dashing after him and tugging firmly at his sleeve. "Let's hear the rest of it. You can kill him later."~Chloe to Dageus.”

“She had a hard time making herself let go and they waged a short, silent, silly little battle that he won, which she reluctantly conceded was probably only fair since it was part of his body.”

“That's why I'm still a virgin, because it means something to me and I'm not going to toss my virginity at your charming feet just because you're the most gorgeous, fascinating man I've ever met and I happen to like your last name.”

“I swear," she babbled hastily, "I won't tell a soul. I don't care. It's okay with me if you have them. I have absolutely no desire to go to the police or anything like that. I don't even like the police. Police and me have never gotten along. They gave me a ticket once for going forty-five in a forty-five zone; how could I possibly like them after that?"~Chloe to Dageus”

“He was sexual in a way that made women think of deeply repressed fantasies therapists and feminists alike would cringe to hear tell of.”

“She'd had her way, and had the top--the third time--informing him he was her 'own private playground'.”

“As she watched, he examined the can intently, read the ingredients, then returned it to the shelf and chose another, repeating his thorough study of it.The contrast between his rough, tough-guy appearance and the domestic act he was performing did funny things to her head.She had a sudden, breathtaking vision of a dark-haired little boy sitting in the seat of the cart, laughing up at Cian, grabbing at his swinging braids with chubby little fists, while his daddy inspected the ingredients on a jar of baby food. Her mind’s eyepicture of sexy, strong man with beautiful, helpless child made something soft and warm blossom behind her chest.”

“Suddenly he smiled, and the sadness was vanquished by whisky heat. “Aye, Jessica, I like you. And I’m not just stuck with you. You fit me here, woman.” He thumped his chest with his fist. Then he shook her hand from his forearm and pushed off with the cart again. Jessi watched him move down the aisle, all sleek animal muscle and dark grace.Wow. He wasn’t a man of many words, but when he used them, he certainly used the right ones. You fit me here. You are the exception to everything.Crimeny.It was how she’d always thought a relationship should be. People should fit each other: somedays like sexy, strappy high-heeled shoes, other days like comfortable loafers—but always a good fit. And if you cared about someone, they should be the exception to everything; the number-one priority, the one who came before all others.He was halfway down the aisle from her now, plucking acan from the shelf—her primal hunter/gatherer procuring food by modern means, she thought, with a soft snort of amusement.”

“No new beginnings.Damn it, it shouldn’t bother her!But it did. She tried to turn away, but his hand flashed out and caught her by the chin.“Let me go,” she snapped.“Nay.” His grip was implacable on her jaw.There was little point in fighting for control of her face; he could have hoisted her into the air with that one big hand on her jaw, if he’d wished.He searched her gaze a long silent moment. “You truly doona ken it, do you? Excepting with you, Jessica. You, lass, are the exception to everything,” he said softly.As if he’d not just knocked the breath out of her with those words and left her feeling weak-kneed, he released her chin, turned away, and began pushing the cart again.”

“Nope,” she managed. “No other questions.”Eleven centuries of captivity. Hung on his hated enemy’s study wall. Eleven centuries of not touching. Not eating. Not loving. Had he had anyone to talkto?Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for he startled her by saying softly, “ ’Tis no longer ofconsequence, lass, but thank you for the compassion. ’Tis nigh over. Seventeen more days, Jessica. That’s all.”For some reason his words brought a sudden hot burn of tears to the backs of her eyes. Not only hadn’t eleven centuries turned him into a monster, he was trying to soothe her, to make her feel better about his imprisonment.“You weep for me, woman?”She turned away. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.”“Jessica.” Her name was a soft command.She disobeyed it, staring out the window at the rolling hills.“Jessica, look at me.”Eyes bright with unshed tears, she whipped her head around and glared at him. “I weep for you, okay?” she snapped. “For eleven centuries stuck in there. Can I start driving again or do you need something else?”He smiled faintly, raised his hand, and splayed his palm against the inside of the silvery glass. Without an ounce of conscious thought, her hand rose tomeet his, aligning on the cool silver,palm to palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. And though she felt only a cold hardness beneath her palm, the gesture made something go all warm and soft in her heart.Neither of them spoke or moved for a moment.”

“Seventeen more days,” Jessi breathed wonderingly. “God, you must be climbing the . . . er, walls . . . or whatever’s in there, huh?”“Aye.”“So, just what is in there, anyway?” She tested the glass by shaking it gently, and deemed it secure enough. It shouldn’t slide now.“Stone,” he said flatly.“And what else?”“Stone. Gray. Of varying sizes.” His voice dropped to a colorless monotone. “Fifty-two thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven stones. Twenty-seventhousand two hundred and sixteen of themare a slightly paler gray than the rest. Thirty-six thousand and four are more rectangular than square. There are nine hundred and eighteen that have avaguely hexagonal shape. Ninety-two ofthem have a vein of bronze running through the face. Three are cracked. Two paces from the center is a stone that protrudes slightly above the rest, over which I tripped for the first fewcenturies. Any other questions?”Jessi flinched as his words impacted her, taking her breath away. Her chest and throat felt suddenly tight. Uh, yeah, like, how did you stay sane inthere? What kept you from going stark raving mad? How did you survive over a thousand years in such a hell?She didn’t ask because it would have been like asking a mountain why it was still standing, as it had been since the dawn of time, perhaps reshaped in subtle ways, but there, always there. Barring cataclysmic planetary upheaval, forever there. The man was strong—not just physically, but mentally andemotionally. A rock of a man, the kinda woman could lean on through the worst of times and never have to worry that things might fall apart, because a man like him simply wouldn’t let them.”

“When Drustan reached the bottom step, she flung herself into his arms. He swung her up into his embrace and kissed her hungrily. By the time he'd finished, she was gasping for air and laughing. "My turn?" Dageus teased.”

“My trews may be soft, lass, he thoughts, but what's in them isn't.”

“And he would never have instructed her to tell his past self such a story and expected himself to believe it.”

“Whether he knew it or not, it was her Drustan, damn it all, just a month and five centuries younger.”

“She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.”

“What was she going to do with two Drustans?A kinky part of her proposed something unmentionable and rather fascinating. Really, if they were both him, it wouldn't be like she was cheating on anyone.”

“It's not enough just to buy condoms, Cassidy; you have to use them.”

“The running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street; mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.”

“I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door. "No," she said irritably. "And a purple shirt.”

“That's impossible," Gwen gasped. "The fastest I've ever run on a treadmill was ten and a half minutes and I nearly died. And it was only one mile. I had to rest for hours and eat chocolate to revive myself.”

“Let's get something straight, MacKeltar. I am not going home with you. I am not going to bed with you, and I am not wasting one more moment arguing with you.""I promise not to mock you when you change your mind, lass.”

“I'm taller than my father, and taller than two of the stones at Ban Drochaid.""I meant in feet," she clarified. Speaking of the mundane gave her a measure of calm.He eyed his boots a moment and appeared to be doing some rapid calculations.”

“We see ourselves in other people’s eyes. It’s the nature of the human race; we are a species of reflection, hungry for it in every facet of our existence. Maybe that’s why vampires seem so monstrous to us—they cast no reflection. Parents, if they’re good ones, reflect the wonder of our existence and the success we can become. Friends, well chosen, show us pretty pictures of ourselves, and encourage us to grow into them.The Beast shows us the very worst in ourselves and makes us know it’s true .”

“I told you, Ms. Lane, never believe anything is dead-""- I know, I know, until you've 'burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them.”

“Get back on the bike and tell me where to go.""I'll tell you where to go," I muttered sourly, and he laughed.”

“As his other hand began to slip around her waist, his body brushed against hers, and there was no mistaking thethick, hard ridge grazing her jean-clad bottom. Heavens, did that thing never subside? The rest of him might be mortal, but his immortal erection certainly didn't scan to have gotten the memo.”

“Life was rich and full. She couldn't have asked for more.Well... actually... she amended with a little inner flinch, she could have.Though most of the time she looked at Adam and just felt awed and humbled that this big, wonderful man had given up so much to love her, sometimes she hated that he didn't have a soul, and sometimes she wanted to hate God.And she had a dream, a silly dream perhaps, but a dream to which she clung.They would live to be a hundred, until long after their children and grandchildren were grown, and one day they would go to bed and lie down facing each other, and die like that, at the same moment, in each other's arms.And this was her dream: that maybe, just maybe, if she loved him hard enough and true enough and deep enough, and if she held on to him tightly enough as they died, she could take him with her wherever it was that souls went.And there she would do what was in her blood, what she now knew she'd been born for; she would stand before God, a brehon, and she would argue the greatest, the most important case of her life.And she would win.”