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Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy #3) Sweet Trouble (Bakery Sisters #3)

He must have informed her of Clancy’s presence, because her only response to that was a soft Oh. I see.

Safi thrust out her chin, and this time she advanced three more steps—right up to his side.And with a harsh exhale, he stomped all the way around to the opposite side of the table.

The Vampire Narcise (Regency Draculia #3)

Really? she cried. Am I that awful to be around?I just want to look at the agreement! She tossed her hands high. Shouldn’t I know what my uncle expects from you? Expects from me?Merik’s posture turned stony, but at last he offered a resigned sigh—and when Safi strode around the table, he stayed firmly in place. Though his shoulders did rise to his ears, and Safi didn’t think she imagined how quickly his breaths came.

Dark Currents (Agent of Hel #1)

Relax, she muttered, bowing over the contract. I’m not going to bite.Has the feral lion been tamed, then?

Look at that, Safi purred, sharing her most feline sideways grin. It has a sense of humor.

Look at that, he retorted, it’s trying to change the subject. He dug a pointed finger into the agreement. Read the cursed contract, Domna, and go away.Black is the color of a child’s still, empty bedroom. The heaviest hour of night—the one that traps you in your bunk, suffocating in another nightmare. It is a uniform stretched over the broad shoulders of an angry young man. Black is the mud, the lidless eye watching your every breath, the low vibrations of the fence that stretches up to tear at the sky.

It is a road. A forgotten night sky broken up by faded stars.It is the barrel of a new gun, leveled at your heart.

Ghost Moon (Bone Island Trilogy #3)

The color of Chubs’s hair, Liam’s bruises, Zu’s eyes.Black is a promise of tomorrow, bled dry from lies and hate.

I see it in the face of a broken compass, feel it in the numbing grip of grief.I run, but it is my shadow. Chasing, devouring, polluting. It is the button that should never have been pushed, the door that shouldn’t have opened, the dried blood that couldn’t be washed away. It is the charred remains of buildings. The car hidden in the forest, waiting. It is the smoke.

The only one they’ll use to tell our story.THE SHADOWS GREW LONGER THE farther I walked from the center of the city. I headed west, toward the sinking sun that set the remainder of the day on fire. I hated that about winter—night seemed to reach earlier and earlier into the afternoon. Los Angeles’s smog-stained sky was painted with dark strokes of violet and ash.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been grateful for the additional cover as I navigated the easy grid of surface streets back to our current base. But with the debris from the attack, the installation of military stations and detainment camps, and the congestion of now-useless, abandoned cars fried by the electromagnetic pulse, the face of the city had been altered so dramatically that to go even a half mile through the wreckage was enough to become completely lost. Without the city’s light pollution casting its usual foggy glow, if any of us scouted at night, we had to rely on distant lights from military convoys.I cast a quick glance around, pressing a hand against my jacket pocket to make sure the flashlight and service pistol were still there; both were courtesy of one Private Morales, and would only be used in absolute emergency. I wasn’t letting anyone pick me up, spot me running through the dark. I had to get back to base.

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