Quotes from Karen Chance

Is anything going to kill me if I use your bathroom?" I finally asked. "Knowing you?" Pritkin's voice was muffled since he hadn't raised his head. I frowned. "Is that a yes?" A couple of fingers came up to massage his temple. "That is a no. Assuming you didn't bring anything deadly along with you.

He didn't take his eyes off me, as if he'd like to see my head mounted on his wall over a sign reading PROBLEM SOLVED.

I turned over, and those big hands got to work on my back. I stifled a whimper in the pillow, because Marco's idea of a massage bore no resemblance whatsoever to the relaxing spa variety. There was no lavender oil, no soothing music, no hot towels. Just an all-out assault on cramped muscles, until they cowered in surrender and turned to Jell-O.

Louis-Cesare. It's good to finally have you in hand.

I liked Pritkin loud and bitching, in other words, his normal state. I didn't like it when he got quiet.

you gotta think it's a waste of—" "Ray!" I glanced around, but there was nobody within earshot. "Well, excuse me if I'm not used to buying condoms for aliens," he said more softly. "They're not aliens." "Well, they're not human. I mean, they could have anything under those tunics, you know?

Before I left, I just wanted to say . . . thank you." It came out a little strangled. I thought about it for a moment. "You're welcome?" "Do you know what I'm thanking you for?" Damn. I'd hoped he wouldn't ask that. It couldn't be for lunch, since we'd never had any. And I guessed we wouldn't now, what with a possessed fridge and all. "No?" I said, figuring I had a fifty-fifty shot.

They don't eat that much." "In comparison to what? Starving marines?

Aiyaaaa," Zheng said softly. And if that meant "holy shit," I agreed.

Can we just do this?" Ray asked tightly, clinging to Zheng's already slightly elongated arm. Because Louis-Cesare wasn't the only one with a master power around here. "Let go," Zheng told him. "I'm the rubber band; you're the spitball. And spitballs don't hold on to rubber bands." "Die in a fire," Ray told him savagely. But he let go.

I lay there, no longer fighting, since my head was spinning too much. And because I wasn't going to win anyway. And because I kind of liked the feeling of sensual captivity, at least by this particular jailer.

A gentleman would have announced himself!" I told him, pressing against the side of the tub. "And a scoundrel would have joined you." -- Kit Marlowe to the witch Gillian (shortly before joining her in the tub!)

So maybe it was just as well that my companion was more like Mulder. A coked-out Mulder with a lot of weapons, who knew that the monsters under the bed were real and would gut you.

It should have really ticked me off—the conceit of it, the more than a hint of possession, the presumption that he could just walk into my bathroom anytime he liked and— And I didn't care. I wanted to turn in to the feel of those hands,wanted to sink into all that warmth, wanted to preen like a cat being stroked, wanted— Wanted. And it scared the hell out of me.

You're right", I told him desperately."I can get others to do what you do. They won't be as good, but...okay. It could work. But it doesn't matter because no matter how good they are, they can't replace you. They can't because I don't need you only for what you can do. I need you...for you.

The eyes were the same color, darker than mine, to the point that they didn't seem to have a pupil as they regarded me quizzically. "For such a small creature, you cause a lot of trouble." "So people…keep telling me," I said, dizzy and weaponless, and wondering what this new hell was.

Pritkin might be a hostile son of a bitch, but he was a damn good guy to have in a fight.

So,high heels weren't a modern invention. I couldn't believe women had been putting up with these torture devices for centuries.

Átnéztem a pólókat, és találtam egyet, melyrÅ'l egy kiguvadt szem? rajzfilmfigura meredt rám. A felirat szerint "Túl sok vér van a koffeinkeringésemben". Megvettem Pritkinnek.

They always assumed that I did not speak. That I could not. So many had plotted my death, discussed it, laughed about it, even while I was in the same room, because they assumed I was mindless. Like one of the failures of their kind, born mad. But I was not a failure. I was what I was supposed to be. I was dhampir. And they never lived to tell anyone they were wrong.

You are nothing like Christine!" he said, in my face. "She was a responsibility, a mistake I made when young and foolish, and from whom I came to believe I would never be free!" "Then what am I?" I challenged, staring up into blazing sapphire eyes. "A joy.

I'm about to rupture something," he was informed, as the big, gaily wrapped box she was carrying smacked into the small of his back again. She had an uncanny ability to hit the same spot every time.

The getup, sort of mad scientist meets Rambo, would have made me smile, except that I believe in showing respect for someone carrying that much hardware.

This is getting surreal," Marlowe murmured. "Even for this place." "Cassie is here-mentally," Mircea told him. "I gathered that." "She seems to find it difficult to understand why I do not wish to have her in my head, unannounced, any time she pleases--" Marlowe gave a bark of a laugh. "Oh this should be fun.