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August 18 - August 19, 2025
“Here it is. Here it is. Slade’s ‘pulsating, animal maleness?’”
She told me she’s planning to quit going anyway, because they won’t stock Diet Pepsi at the juice bar.
Beneath some kind of fancy-looking tree stood… Jack the Ripper? Holy shit. Just how brain-injured was she?
Her dream man was incredibly hot, but he was also a condescending jerk. Typical.
Something warm twisted in her stomach at the idea, even though it seemed likely that he was just plotting how to dismember her corpse.
Truthfully, she felt a lot more physically aware of the weirdo beside her, than of the underwear model strutting around on display.
That seemed like a logical plan. Way better than rocking in a corner somewhere, crying for lithium.
“Lean against my mighty shoulder and cry, Eternal-One. You are overwrought.”
Gothic furniture and gargoyles and creepy paintings with moving eyes. Dark, velvet drapes shrouded the windows and the canopy bed looked like a crypt. The kind of place you’d pose the body of your victim for a few candid shots before you ate his skin.
Vampires had their own island? Kara had the sudden image of Count Chocula dressed in a cape and Bermuda shorts, sitting on a beach somewhere.
No way was she bunking down at Club Dead with a socially maladjusted sorcerer and his pet raven.
Damien looked at this small, weak human and he saw his own end. He wanted her, anyway.
Guest sounded so much better than hostage.
“He has a castle?” Damn. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that part. “Just a small one.”
“I’m never concerned about other men in a woman’s past. After she’s been with me, she doesn’t remember them, anyway.”
“There is no need to fear King Slade’s legendary prowess and massive endowments, my lady. He will take your purity with the gentlest…”
Why didn’t he just stab the lackwit through the heart and be done with it?
The woman was either a consummate liar or deranged, but she smelled incredible.
Maybe he really was the villain.
When he used that patronizing tone, she wanted to hold his head in a blender.
Kara tried not to be overcome by his sinister hotness.
Once again, he dressed like someone out for a day of Victorian-era ax-murdering.
“I’m taking advantage of you.” She admitted, reluctantly. “That sounds promising.”
“In any reality, I think I would wind-up buying you whatever you wished.”
Too bad there wasn’t a test he could take to see for himself. Like a Cosmo quiz, “Is He an Evil Overlord?”
God, it was simple to win when you had magical powers and no conscience.
“You’re threatening me with my own prisoner? You’re holding my hostage hostage in order to keep me as your hostage?”
“I mean it. I have a great sense of humor, but kidnapping stunts aren’t nearly so funny the second time.” “Well, I’d hate to repeat a joke. I’ll just have to keep you under my nefarious control in some other hilarious way.”
“Okay, look, I can’t just sleep with every handsome villain who tries to kidnap me.”
“Reconsidering your plan to pimp me out to Edward Cullen?”
Damien’s jaw got tight, his thumb tracing over the last sentence. She’d added a heart after it. His Beloved. His cari. His beautiful, odd, softhearted, innocent, sneaky, reckless mate. Who gave him such peace. Who he would lay down and die for without a second thought. Who he loved more than all the other beings who’d ever existed in the history of the universe combined... …And who he now planned to horribly murder.
Hopefully, her mother had been wrong and rolling your eyes didn’t get them stuck like that, because Kara was pushing the limits of how far they could go without spinning right around in her skull.
Because originality, thy name is Tanya.
“Nonsense. I’m incredibly interested in saving Slade and Matilda.” He fell into step beside Kara, his hand finding hers and squeezing her fingers. “You know I just adore those crazy kids.”
You can lead an anachronism to water, Tanya, but you can’t make it drink.
I saw the deep love he truly bears for his king. And I am… moved. Fibos!” He looked over at his lieutenant. “We shall have a day of mourning for the sorcerer. Not today, though. It’s my birthday. Perhaps Tuesday.” “You have that polo match Tuesday, Sire.” “Oh yes. Well, Tuesday’s out, then.”
The day before, he had turned all the traffic lights in the city red for half an hour just to see what would happen. And he’d flooded their neighbor’s apartment with green Jell-O, because the man tried to flirt with Kara and it annoyed him. And he’d changed the stock readouts that ran along the bottom of the television screen to say nothing but, ‘Damien is Your Master’ on every station. Twice.
