Burned (Fever #7)

by Karen Marie Moning

“She is who doesn’t belong here. Faulty logic imprisons one Sinsar Dubh while the other is permitted to roam Dublin. It is what it is regardless of the vessel.” “Oh, you should so talk,” I snap. “Dani.” “I. Am. Jada.” “Whoever the fuck you are,” Barrons growls, “you’re not touching Mac.” “Well, you’re not touching me either,” I growl up at him. “Deal with it, Ms. Lane.” “Deal with it?” I say incredulously. “Ms. Lane, my bloody ass. You called me Mac that very night, that first night we met and screwed our brains out, and what do I get ever since? I’ll tell you what I—” “During. You changed. You became the woman after. A stiff blindered horse that spooked on new terrain. I expected better—” “Oh, and because your expectations weren’t met—” “They were bloody well exceeded, which is why the after—” “You think you have the right to just strip the entire experience from one party to the—” “—was such a grand disappointment, and if—” “—event as if they—” “It wasn’t an ‘event.’ It was a motherfucking revelation.” “—don’t even have the right to remember whatever the hell mistake they—” “Which is precisely why I did it. You thought it was a mistake, then you—” “—chose to make, just like they might choose to keep the memory, because after all, they were there and it was theirs and possession is nine-tenths of—” “—started getting all tight-lipped and pissy and I knew if—” “—law.” “I am the law.” “Apparently. Heil.” I click my heels together and salute. “Can’t you two find a better fuck...