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One Shot (Jack Reacher #9) Never After

Practically every night since the day we met.

The footprints he left on the white marble were red. Red as a Burmese ruby. Red as the core of a fire. Red as the anger in his marrow.The blood was TrezLath’s own, but he felt no pain.

Eternal Sin (Mark of the Vampire #6)

The murder weapon he’d just used, a sterling silver paring knife about as long as his hand and as narrow as his forefinger, was still in his palm. It was dripping, but that was not the source of the stain he was leaving behind. He had been injured in the fight. His hip. His thigh. Maybe his shoulder, he wasn’t sure.The corridor was a mile long and sky-high, and he did not know what awaited him at its termination. A door, he prayed. There had to be a door of some kind—this was the way out of the palace, so there had to be … an exit. And when he came unto it? He had no idea how he was going to break out. But he’d also had no clue how to kill another living male, and he’d done that minutes ago.Further, he had no plan for what was on the far side of the palace enclosure or how he was going to get over the Territory’s retaining walls. No clue where to go, what to do. All he knew was that he couldn’t be in that cell anymore. It was luxurious enough, with silken sheets on a feather bed, and a bath that had its own pool, and a private chef to feed him. He had books written by the Shadow Masters at his disposal, and a full team of care specialists, from healers, to bathers, to exercise commandants. As for his clothes? His now-torn vestments were studded with gems from the treasury, diamonds and emeralds and sapphires cascading down his robes.

The Sacred Book of the Werewolf

And yet his body was regarded as far more valuable than the largesse it bore.Trez was the sacred fatted calf, the prized breeding stallion, the male whose birth chart had proclaimed he was to sire the next generation of queens.

He had not yet been called into sexual service. That would come in time, when the Princess he was to mate had reached her astrological maturity.

Trez looked over his shoulder. No one was coming after him, but that would change as soon as the crumpled body of that guard he’d overpowered was found—and that wasn’t going to be long. There was always someone watching.He couldn’t torment me anymore.

I didn’t think about Jethro or Jasmine or home. I didn’t think at all. About anything.Prowling behind me, he gathered my hair in his fist. You have such beautiful hair. Last chance to change your mind, Weaver.

The Underworld (Fallen Star #2)

My voice held no fear or objection. If my tone were a colour, it would be colourless. Do whatever you want.It was a stupid reason but one I’d done for my mother. She’d loved to play with it. To plait it, thread it with flowers and ribbon—show me off as her little princess.

That was my last remaining memory of her, and Daniel had stolen that, too.Gonna slice every strand off your head, Daniel promised. His touch tugged on my hair, twining it into a rope. Ready to say goodbye?

My heart didn’t hurry. My eyes didn’t burn.Don’t fucking answer me. See if I care. Daniel’s fingers yanked harder and the rusty yawn of the scissors bled through my ears.

My eyes closed as the first snip turned me into a stranger.Physically, I couldn’t feel pain, but spiritually, I howled in anguish. It hurt. It hurt so so much to have such a poignant piece of me stolen without fighting, without screaming, without protecting what made me me.

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