This is what people were looking at all day? How embarrassing! I looked like Quasimodo! My guests were exceptional actors.
The reader is the final arbiter.
He wasn't like some of his fellow GhostWalkers, who seemed to walk into a room and have half the female population enthralled--and that had nothing to do with their enhancements and everything to do with their good looks, charisma, or both, none of which he had.
No matter what, the living came first.
Malichai knew there wasn't much to see, other than he was combat-hardened. His experience showed in the lines in his face, in the calm he displayed under all conditions and the flat, cold look in his eyes.
Malichai had grown up fierce, using his fists, learning every form of underhanded street-fighting known to man, and he'd learned it was life or death. He'd chosen life.
She was beautiful all riled up. His heart was going a little crazy and all at once he felt very much alive. Maybe this vacation thing wasn't going to be so bad.
He wasn't going to get caught staring at her and reveal that she had the upper hand.
I’d do anything to be inside you right now.
Suddenly, he understood why he couldn’t have her back then, or now. Or ever. He was a starving man and she was an oasis, a hallucination, a single sparkling drop of water in his desiccated world. And the problem with giving in, drinking that water, getting just one little taste, was that he’d know exactly what he’d been missing. And he’d never, ever be able to go back.
Cooking’s like making music.” She threw him a smile. “It’s the perfect storm of smell and touch and taste and even sound, you know? That sizzle in the pan, the pop of spices. The moment you turn the heat off and there, right there, the ingredients let off a warm, enveloping steam.” “I eat to survive,” he said, matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Was it sad to eat for survival? That was exactly what they were doing right here and the pleasure of it was almost blinding.
He moved in, set his chin on her shoulder, and whispered, “I can’t…” When he didn’t go on, she turned a little to the right, enough to put the tips of their noses together. “Can’t what?” “Can’t stop wanting you.
He rose. “Come here.” Like a moth to a flame, mesmerized, or hypnotized, or something. Angel went to him, giving herself up to Ford Cooper’s ephemeral net.
I thought you were a jerk.” He shook with an unexpected burst of laughter. “I know.” He squeezed her tight, trying to figure out how to keep her alive. “I know.
We’re heading out into the most dangerous place on earth with killers after us?” “Yeah.” He couldn’t help a grim smirk. “Better hit the road.
Man, this is the world’s worst workout program. The Drag Your Own Butter.
I was such a messed up person and he was still holding on.
You can’t get the blood out.
Denial. It’s the only thing that keeps most of us from losing our sanity.
I have seen so many girls in my life, but she is a woman. Hope to meet her soon.