“Then he snarled at her. “You are not leaving me.”
It was an order, and she didn’t have to follow anyone’s orders. That was part of being Omega instead of a regular werewolf – who might have had a snowball’s chance in hell of being a proper mate.
“You need someone stronger,” Anna told him again. “So you wouldn’t have to hide when you’re hurt. So you could trust your mate to take care of herself and help, damn it, instead of having to protect me from whatever you are hiding.” She hated crying. Tears were weaknesses that could be exploited and they never solved a damned thing. Sobs gathered in her chest like a rushing tide and she needed to get away from him before she broke.
Instead of fighting his grip, she tried to slide out of it. “I need to go,” she said to his chest. “I need–”
His mouth closed over hers, hot and hungry, warming her mouth as his body warmed her body.
“Me,” Charles said, his voice dark and gravelly as if it had traveled up from the bottom of the earth, his eyes a bright gold. “You need me.”
“What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.”
“You forgot the ‘my precious,’” Anna said dryly. “If you want to act like a freaking nutcase, you have to do it right.”
“Leslie had learned two valuable things about the fae that day. They were powerful and charming -- and they ate children and puppies.”
“I told them," he said in a clear, carrying voice, "that they should not give someone as old and powerful as I a daughter to love. That it would end badly.”
“His brother maintained that what sent people backing away was neither his size nor his mother's blood, but solely the expression on his face. To test Samuel's theory, Charles had tried smiling - and then solemnly reported to Samuel that he had been mistaken. When Charles smiled, he told Samuel, people just ran faster.”
“Are you done yet?' Issac called
Charles tilted his head back and called back, 'I suppose that's why they call you the five minute wonder.'
Anna could feel her eyes round and her mouth drop open 'I cant believe you just said that' She paused and reconsidered. 'I am so telling Samuel you said that.'
Charles smiled. kissed her gently, and said 'Samuel won't believe you.”
“He had lived a very long time, and only since he gained Anna had he learned to fear. He’d discovered that he had never been brave before—just indifferent. She had taught him that to be brave, you have to fear losing something.”
“Anna followed, keeping a sharp eye out for things he might back into or over. She wondered if Isaac did this all the time-and, if so, how he avoided getting photos in the paper with captions like "Local Alpha Trips Over Child" or "Wolf Versus Street Sign, Street Sign Wins.”
“It is not wise to give something old and powerful something they care about. And I am very old.”
“Never accept the blame for what evil people do. We are all responsible for our own actions. She was lecturing him, so she stopped. "Sorry. Hang around with Bran too long, and see if you don’t start passing around the Marrok’s advice as if he were Confucius.”
“Charles preferred his deer to taste like meat and his pancakes to look like pancakes. Brother Wolf thought he was too picky. Brother Wolf was probably right.”
“Is it like a Harry Potter thing?"
He turned his head then. "A what?"
"A Harry Potter thing," she said again. "You know, don't say Voldemort's name because you might attract his attention?"
He considered it. "You mean the children's book."
"I have got to get you to watch more movies," she said. "You'd enjoy these. Yes, I mean the children's book.”
“He'd woken up after flying from Boston to Montana to find his da cooking breakfast for them: sausage and pancakes shaped like deer. It wasn't just any deer, either - they looked like Bambi from the disney cartoon. Charles didn't want to know how his father had managed that”
“People as old and powerful as he should never be given someone to love. For Anna he would destroy the world.”
“Asil left Bran alone with his thoughts then, because if he stayed, Bran would argue with him. This way, Bran would have no one to argue with but himself. And Asil had always credited Bran with the ability to be persuasive.”
“She crawled on top of him, naked and warm and soft, smelling like a miracle that had saved him from a lifetime of aloneness.”
“When is the last time you were a tourist?” she asked archly.
He just looked at her. Charles, she had to agree, was not tourist material.
“Right,” Anna told him. “Buck up. You might even enjoy it.”
“You might as well have ‘hapless victim’ tattooed across your forehead,” he muttered.”
“Anna looked at Brother Wolf. ‘I’d like to see someone try to put a radio control collar on Charles. It might be fun to watch on YouTube.”
“Asil has appointed himself my guardian?" asked Charles softly. Asil was overstepping himself.
"He was bored, he told me," said his father. He gave Charles a small smile. "I have given him a job so he doesn’t get bored again.”
“There isn’t a person in this city more dangerous than a wolf whose mate is in danger.”
“If she kept wondering about how much of her life Bran engineered, she’d end up on a funny farm knitting caps for ducks.”
“It is the way of mortals. They fling themselves at life and emerge broken.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be able to get at that information,” said Leslie.
“Don’t look,” said Goldstein, peering over Charles’s shoulder. “We don’t know anything about illegal hacking.” He whistled cheerily.”
“She had no idea who the dagos were. Her racist vocabulary obviously needed work. What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn’t read Tolkien.”
“Taking out werewolves, I gather and surmise, is akin to taking out a SEAL team.”
“And thus Charles found himself wandering around a hotel, trailing federal agents as he held a cardboard coffee cup holder in each hand, instead of out killing misbehaving werewolves.”
“Shame is...not a productive emotion," Charles told her. There was a funny little pause when he tilted his head to look at her face and then away. "Brother Wolf liked claiming you in front of the others so that there will be no question who you belong to. While I... I regret your embarrassment but otherwise I agree with Brother Wolf.”
“They staggered and stumbled, wounded but triumphant, singing the old Welsh folk song “Ar Lan y Môr.” And if there was something odd about returning from battle singing about lilies, rosemary, rocks, and—for some reason he’d never fathomed—eggs, of all things, by the sea, well, then the three of them made it sound pretty good and only he and Beauclaire knew Welsh.”
“But I try not to think with my gut. If I'm serious about understanding the world, thinking with anything besides my brain, as tempting as that might be, is likely to get me into trouble.”
“Mind the dead man, my dear.”
“If there are rules, we're the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.”
“You get on the bull, and you ride until he sees who the master is. Relentless. Unforgiving. Merciless." ~Kane~”
“You're getting better, my lady."
"Don't patronize me."
"No, really, Your Highness. When you started painting five years ago, I could never tell what it was you were trying to depict."
"And this is a painting of . ."
Ashe paused. "A bowl of fruit?" he asked hopefully.
Sarene sighed in frustration.
_______________________________
"Beautifully—which is more than I can say for the painting." He paused for a
moment. "It's a horse, right?"
Sarene scowled.
"A house?" he asked.
"It is not a bowl of fruit either, my lord," Ashe said. "I already tried that."
"Well, she said it was one of the paintings in this room," Lukel said. "All we
have to do is keep guessing until we find the right one."
"Brilliant deduction, Master Lukel." Ashe said.”
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