Archangel's Blade

I will love you even when I am dust on the wind.

Ever had a woman say no to you, Dmitri?” “Once.” He turned the corner with a smile that made her want to cup his face, trace those beautiful lips with her own. “I married her.

I’ll wait for you to find me again. So don’t take too long. -Dmitri

After they were both done, the pile of knives and guns on the coffee table looked like they’d cleaned out an armory. “I think we have a problem, Dmitri.

Illium seems far too pretty to be dangerous.” Dmitri’s male beauty, by contrast, was a darker, edgier thing. “No one ever expects him to take out a blade and slice off their balls,” he said with lethal amusement in his tone as he drove them toward the George Washington Bridge. “He does it with such grace, too.

Bluebell,” she said, remembering from Erotique. “Pretty name.” “I call Dmitri Dark Overlord.” “Shae,” Dmitri said and the female vampire rose at once to walk quickly into the house. “Now, pretty Bluebell”—another languid stroke across her skin—“tell the Overlord what you discovered.

Honor?” “Yes.” “I’m going to do things to you now that a good girl definitely shouldn’t let a man do to her.

You refused to fall in love with anyone else, Dmitri.” A whisper with the impact of a gun-shot. “So I had to come back for you . . . husband.

Holding her gaze, he closed the final distance between them and went down to his knees, that beautiful bruised face looking up at her.

Is your skin this tone all over?" "Only one way you're going to discover the answer to that.

In my time,” he said, “they believed in witches. Are you a witch, Honor, that you make me say these things to you?” Causing him to rip open wounds that had stayed safely scabbed over for so long that, most of the time, he managed to forget they existed. Her hands, so very, very gentle, continued to hold his face as she tugged him down until their foreheads touched. “I’m no witch, Dmitri. If I was, I’d know how to fix you.

Contact would hurt, might be fatal, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Obsession or compulsion, she didn’t know, but she did know that before this was over, she’d either end up in Dmitri’s bed . . . or one of them would bleed darkest red.

You,” she murmured, using both hands to undo his belt, “are the sexiest man I have ever met.” He made her think bad thoughts simply by breathing.

While Dmitri, as the leader of Raphael’s Seven, could not accept such a weakness, the mortal he’d once been, the one who had loved a woman with a wide mouth and eyes of slanted brown . . . that man understood what it was to love so deeply it was a kind of beautiful madness.

Fine. But remember, little rabbit, not a word to anyone." He moved close enough that the dark heat of him lapped against her in a quiet threat that made her glad for the blade. "I'm not a nice man when I'm angry." She held her position, a ragged attempt to erase the humiliation of the panic attack. "I'm fairly certain you're not a nice man at all." His answer was a slow smile that whispered of silk sheets, erotic whispers, and sweat-damp skin. The unhidden intent of it had her heart slamming hard against her ribs. "No" she said. Voice raw. "A challenge.” He wasn't touching her and yet she felt caressed by a thousand ropes of fur, soft and lush and unmistakably sexual. "I accept

Some women,” Dahariel said in that same hard tone devoid of any hint of humanity, “get under a man’s skin until digging them out makes you bleed.

Come make me sticky. Dimitri to Honor

An instant later, they were kissing. It was no light brush this time, no exploring touch. This was all tongues and teeth and wicked wetness as he kissed her like a man who had rough, sweaty, dirty sex on his mind and didn't care if she knew it.

Some battles, a woman has to fight on her own

Illium was a stunning sight against the lightening sky, his wings sweeping through the air with a grace that made him seem a half-forgotten dream. When he landed in the courtyard, his wings flaring out for an instant, he was at once very much a man, physical and sexual, and an unattainable fantasy.

Honor miró por la ventana... y vio la sobrecogedora imagen de un ángel con alas de color azul plateado aterrizando en la zona verde del césped. -Es... -Se quedó sin aliento. Había visto fotos, incluso imágenes de televisión, que mostraban a aquel ángel de alas azules, pero ninguna de ellas le hacía justicia. Nada podría hacérsela. Resultaba mucho más impactante de cerca. No le quitó la vista de encima mientras se reunían con él junto al coche. Tenía los ojos del color del oro veneciano, el cabello negro con matices azules, y un rostro de una belleza tan pura que resultaba casi demasiado hermoso. Casi. Era, sencillamente, la criatura más hermosa que había visto en su vida. -Soy Illium -dijo el ángel mirándola a los ojos. Honor estuvo a punto de esbozar una sonrisa al ver la curiosidad pintada en sus iris dorados. -Yo soy Honor.

I will love you even when i am dust on the winds

Someday,” she said in a voice as serene as a high mountain lake, “I’m going to break your neck. Then I’m going to saw it off with a hacksaw so I can take my time.” Venom’s grin creased his cheeks. “I knew you had it in you, kitty.” (Venom & Sorrow)

Those who say vengeance eats you up are wrong—it doesn’t, not if you do it right.

Will you love me when I’m fat and unwieldy with our babe?” "I will love you even when I am dust on the wind.

I feel like a moth drawn to the flame.” Contact would hurt, might be fatal, and yet she couldn’t stop herself.

Flirt with him if you want, Honor, but you're mine.