The Warlord Wants Forever

How old are you?” “Physiologically, I’m twenty-five. Chronologically, I’m…not.

When she scooped up her clothes, opened his door, then snapped her fingers for a guard down the hall, Wroth watched like a bystander. “Pssst. Minion. I need these laundered. Very little starch. Don’t just stand there gawking or you’ll anger my good frenemy General Wroth. We’re like this.” He couldn’t see her but knew she was twining two fingers together.

You’ll call for me. You’ll be lonely in your new quarters and will feel out of sorts. I could let you pet my hair until you fell asleep.” He drew in closer and lowered his voice to ask in all seriousness, “You’re mad, aren’t you?” “As—a—hatter,” she whispered back conspiratorially. He felt a hint of sympathy for the creature. “How long have you been in here?” “For four long...interminable...days.” He glowered at her. “Which is why I want you to take me with you. I don’t eat much.” The dungeon erupted with laughter again. (Myst and Nikolai)

What’s your name?” “What do you want it to be?” “Are you a vampire?” “Not the last time I checked.

I’ll begin with the most basic.What are you?” “Pussy Cat Doll?” she asked, immediately doing a slow headshake at his look. “Judge, jury and executioner.” He scowled. Her eyes lit up. “Transient! What? Really. No? Babe in Toyland?

Torture?” she asked with a laugh. “My first piece of information I’ll divulge to you? I wouldn’t recommend trying to torture me. I dislike it and grow sulky under pincers. It’s a fault.

Wroth! Don’t do this!” “Five years of hell,”he sneered, palming her ass roughly. “You deserve to be fucked till you can’t walk.

Wroth, darling,” she purred, smiling so sweetly. “I can’t wait for the next time I get to put my mouth on you.” In an instant the smile faded and she snapped her teeth and yanked her head back as if she was chewing something free.

He swallowed. “Have you no modesty?” Never in his life had he encountered a female so quick to be naked. Of course, he’d never in his life encountered a female who should so utterly be naked at any chance.

You’ll strip in front of a vampire when you don’t even know his name?” “You’re right! So what’s your name?” “My answer will be as forthcoming as yours. What do you want it to be?” “Some kind of name that fits a battle-scarred,overgrown vampire warlord.

Furie had once asked her, “Why would you ever send a man to do a woman’s job?” Confused, Myst had answered, “Because I can.

How do you plan to keep me here during the day? An unblooded Forbearer shouldn’t be so hard to vanquish.” Vanquished by her? Amusing. “I’ll send you back to the cell. You want to be my pet? I’ll take you out and put you back in your cage at my pleasure.” She blinked at him. “You don’t want to send me back. Who will entertain you? I can deal poker and make shadow animals.

I will be good to you, Myst. I will protect you. You are mine.

I can't lose you. The very thought makes me crazed. I can't even allow myself to imagine you leaving me.

I can't let you go. I'll never do that. not until I die.

You're my Bride. Mine. You belong to me.

Kill first and then say, “Gosh, were you actually good? My duh!

She'd always pitied the plight of genies until once when she'd freed one from a young beserker. Instead of thanks, the chit had laid into her, screaming, "To each her own, lightening whore!

Psst. Minion. I need these laundered. Very little starch. Don’t just stand there gawking or you’ll anger my good frenemy General Wroth. We’re like this

Yes. But…” She stroked the smooth backs of her claws down his arms. “You’ll have to spend eternity making it up to me.” He released her to lever himself above her, cupping the back of her neck. His gaze flickered over her face, then met the eyes of his wife as she smiled up at him. Feeling love for her so strong it hurt him, his voice ragged with it, he rasped, “Milaya, it is done.

Way to hurt my feelings, Wroth. She sniffled. Now I’ll really have to kill you. *

She wanted to purr—because apparently central casting had just sent down the consummate virile warlord.

And at the end of the night, he stared down at her in puzzlement. He didn’t know which facet of her he liked better. The siren in black satin that made his cock and fangs ache or this angel with her bright red hair spread across his pillow—who made his chest ache. She

His hands reached out to pile her hair up, just so he could lean down and breathe along her neck. At her ear, he murmured, “Bride, this is embarrassing. I think I’ve caught you staring at my cock,

warriors—be they human, demoness, siren, changeling or any brave creature from the Lore—knew to pray for it as they died. Thus the Valkyrie were born.