Ilona Andrews is the pen name of Ilona Gordon and Andrew Gordon, an American husband-and-wife duo who write urban fantasy and romantic fiction together.
I also stole a small yellow doughnut from the box of Duncan's doughnuts in the rec room and fed it to the attack poodle in my office. He made a great production of it. First, he growled at the doughnut, just to show it who was boss. Then he nudged it with his nose. Then he licked it, until finally he snagged it into his mouth and chomped it with great pleasure, dropping crumbs all over the carpet.
You do realize you just insulted me, right?" "How so?" "You implied that I can't protect her or my people. " I looked at him. "That's not at all what I meant. " "Apologize and I'll let it go. " I kept my hands firmly on the iron rail before me. Grabbing the weight bar and walloping the Beast Lord upside the head wouldn't be the best diplomatic move. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. " There. I was civil. It almost killed me.
He stepped forward, took a deep breath, and doubled over in a sneezing fit. My werewolf was allergic to tortoises. Why me?
One day, she’d find a way to live her life to the fullest. She was sure of it. She just had no idea how she would manage it.
I closed my eyes. “Are you okay?” “I’m tired. My knee is hurting again and I’m trying to teleport myself upstairs. ” “Um, Kate, you can’t do that. ” “I know. But I’m trying very hard. Let me know if I start fading?
Oh no, is it naked time?
The Order of Merciful Aid provided merciful aid, usually on the edge of a blade or the burn of a bullet.
And did you have to hack his arms off?” “Yes, I did. He wouldn’t go through the door. ” “You say it like you’re proud of it. " I was proud of it. It was an example of quick thinking in a difficult situation.
I turned to leave and paused before the gap in the ruined wall. "One last thing, Your Majesty. I'd like a name I can put into my report, something shorter than typing out 'The Leader of the Southern Shapechanger Faction. ' What should I call you?" "Lord. " I rolled my eyes. He shrugged. "It's short.
It took a qualified wizard to detect a summoning in progress. It required only a half-literate idiot with a twitch of power and a dim idea of how to use it to attempt one. Before you knew it, a three-headed Slavonic god was wreaking havoc in downtown Atlanta, the skies were raining winged snakes, and SWAT was screaming for more ammo.
Aha," Andrea said. "I'm going to ignore that you just referred to yourself as 'sugar woogums'.
She had wailed loudly enough to wake the dead and make them call the cops.
I took the jacket off, changed my T-shirt for a dark gray tank top, slipped on the tangle of the back sheath, and put the jacket on again. Thugs are us. Great. Just add a super-tight ponytail and loads of mascara, and I’d be ripe to play a supervillain’s evil mistress. Ve haf vays of making you gif us your DNA sample.
I'll call you," he repeated. "If you call me, I won't pick up the phone. " "You will wait by the phone for my call, and when it rings, you will pick it up and you will speak to me in a civil manner. If you don't know how, ask someone.
You sure you don't need your Prince Charming to come and save you?" The knot in my stomach evaporated. My Prince Charming huh. "Sure, do you have one handy?
He isn’t so much flirting,” Cerise murmured. “Either he doesn’t like me or he doesn’t know how. ” “Of course he likes you. You’re lovely. He probably just doesn’t get it. Some men have to be hit over the head with it. Her aunt rolled her eyes. “I thought I’d have to draw your uncle Jean a giant sign. That or kidnap him and have my evil way with him, until he got the message.
Jack didn’t fully get Jesus. Audrey tried to explain it, and he could repeat it back to her, word for word, but he still didn’t comprehend most of it. The best he could gather was that Jesus lived long ago, told people to be nice, and they killed him for it. At the end, he asked who was Jesus’ necromancer and if he was in the Bible, then Kaldar couldn’t stop laughing and had to sit down.
I don't trust tragedies much. It's easy to make a person sad by showing him something tragic. We all recognize when sad things happen: someone dies, someone loses a loved one, young love is crushed. It's much harder to make a man laugh-what's funny to one person isn't funny to another.
Your favorite volhv showed up half an hour ago, complaining about his lack of sleep and stupid gods. He says he brought his Batman belt.
This is payback, isn't it?" Jim glared at me. "Don't be ridiculous," I told him. "As the Consort of the Pack, I'm far above petty revenge.