Moonglow

We are all imperfect creatures, love. I don't want perfect. I just want you.

My mind is filled.' 'With what?' she whispered. 'You. All the time. You.' He sighed. 'Daisy has taken up residence here.' Yet it was to his heart he pressed her hand, to feel its pounding. 'How to keep you safe. How to keep you out. How to keep... you.

Perhaps there are some things we can't let go of, but simply accept as over.

Lord above, was there a better sight than a woman flush with passion, her skin dewy and pink, her breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts?

I won't be a substitute for what you cannot have. Especially not if it is my sister's shadow you mean to place me in.

Things must be done, life must go on. Life would go on, even if every breath she took hurt, even if her joints ached when she moved. Sorry and loneliness were an insidious evil, for they lived in the mind. One could not take a tonic and see them dissipate.

Dirt!" she shouted, no longer able to contain her ire. "Of all the gifts I could have received, I am left with dirt.

I could love you, you know." "I could love you, too.

You know very well." Daisy ignored the way her breath hitched when he got too near. "You get riled up and off you go, throwing that Highland accent about as if to intimidate." She dropped her voice in an imitation of his. "Ye will do as I say or I will take ye overr me knee an' stroop yer backside!

She paused as she took in Mrs. Bean's monstrously ugly evening bonnet. "What a wonderful bonnet. That quail looks as though it shall take flight at any moment." And perhaps be shot down by hunters. Mrs. Bean's eyes narrowed. "It is a dove." "Oh?" Daisy peered closer. "Yes, it is. My mistake. I'm rather dismal at categorising fowl. Even when it is right before me.

I can turn into anything," he said with emphasis. "Even another werewolf." When Daisy blinked back at him, too dumbfounded to speak, Talent laughed, heartily. She'd been correct. He was devastating when he truly smiled. "Haven't you learned, woman? You've fallen off the map. Here there be monsters.

Randal is a lad of about twenty and two, curly-haired and distressingly cherubic in appearance." "Distressingly? Really, Northrup, I cannot see what could be distressing about a cherub." His brows drew in a scowl. "They're baby angels, for God's sake." As if this explained all.

You never made me weak," he said, giving her a little shake. "You make me strong." His big hands smoothed up her arms. "Just knowing you're in this world makes me want to live in it, makes me want to fight.

But he knew full well that marriage vows were not a guarantee, nor a promise, of everlasting happiness.

I'm intrigued. If not by beauty, how then does one spot the garden-variety nobleman?" "Easily," she said. "One need only look for the promise of beauty not quite fulfilled, a nose too large, eyes a bit too closer together, or ears ready to set sail.

There is a fine line between persistence and being a pest, my lord.

Does she make the risk worth it?" Despite the years they'd been at odds, they still understood each other perfectly. Ian didn't hesitate to answer. "It isn't a matter of choice, Benjamin." The other man sighed. "It never is.

I am nature, the universal Mother, mistress of all the elements, primordial child of time, sovereign of all things spiritual, queen of the dead, queen of the ocean, queen also of the immortals…

Said he would not turn into me. Wouldn’t become a thing destined to be alone.

You are the gift I never saw coming.