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I wasn’t the only survivor the night my father’s court was destroyed. Brand had survived, too: my Companion, born human and bonded with me in the crib, raised and trained to protect me. And he had. He’d saved me—saved us both—that night.
I seem to be the only one who is bothered by the concept of a companion.
Once upon a time, the Heart Throne had been the archetype of sex and love and shiny, happy fluids.
A normal job went like this: I went somewhere I shouldn’t, I tried not to get caught, and if I did, Brand shot someone in the head. It was a good day when the corpse had pizza money.
The actual art of flying is not a comic-book experience. It is scary and dangerous as fuck all, and clumsy, and intemperate.
Did you know he’s nearly a full-blooded fae?” “A changeling?” I asked, surprised. Full-blooded fae had the ability to alter their appearance—not as dramatically as were-folk, but it came in handy.
He was on the futon. I slumped next to him. The painkillers had started to kick in by then. Everything—the room, my clothes, the blanket on the chair—settled against my nerve endings like flannel. “Did our bond just go dopey?” Brand asked. “Aspirin,” I said. “Are you telling me that aspirin theoretically exists, or that you took nothing but aspirin?” he asked.
Ah, the snark.
Max spent the next fifteen minutes splashing in the shallows—the
Who the fuck is Max? Are we now calling Matthias, "Max?" Or is that just one colossal typo? eta - poor editing. Matthais is Max but they don’t start calling him that until later.
And since there weren’t many taboo subjects between Brand and I, he’d soon realize I suspected that Matthias had been abused.
We all did. That's not a very big leap (or reveal.
That was Brand!” Quinn said excitedly. “I miss Brand. He’ll make me laugh. Why did you never try to kiss him a second time? Is it because he pushed you into the water?”
Well this is getting weird.
His face fell. “Oh. I forgot. You don’t like seers.” Then he burst into another delighted smile. “But you like me anyway. You kissed me on the eyebrow once.
You don’t understand. It’ll either be with rope, or in a bathtub. I don’t know why I don’t just steal Ella’s sleeping pills. I’m much less scared of swallowing pills than I am of cutting myself. But all those times that Addam dies and leaves me, all I see are ropes and bathtubs. But . . . of all the ways that Addam can be saved, it’s you on the path.”
No pressure.
Hey, love. What’s your poison?” “Something with an antidote,” I joked, lamely, because he was handsome and not wearing a shirt. Brand rolled his eyes, so I cleared my throat and said, “A bottle of diet raspberry ginger ale for me. Spartacus will have bottled water. Matthias? Max?” “A beer?” Max suggested. “Nope.”
“Ciaran, how did you talk to Quinn? How long has he been in a coma?” “Since you left him. His Shield went down and the bad guys used concussion grenades. He has not regained consciousness. Quinn’s not exactly alarmed by his condition. He says, and I quote, that most of the time he wakes up, and sometimes there’s even cake.”
“How do I know that? We should have called the Tower, not hired backup off the island of misfit fucking toys.”
“A summoning is a spell. A spell is words backed with willpower. Any willful, ignorant tongue may form the right words.” Rurik paused. “It does not mean they will hold me.”
“You interest me, Hero. I’m fairly sure you saved my life, and a simple thank you seems so small. I don’t know whether I should pay you handsomely, or invite you into the shower with me.”
The bright-yellow t-shirt was striking against his tan and the green-brown Celtic tattoos. He tucked it into the black pants,
Fucking bumble bee.
When Addam stopped dancing, I said, “It’ll ruin everything if that’s Britney Spears, you know.” He gave me a tired smile, his right cheek caving into a dimple. “West Coast swing.”
Way worse
“My eyes itch,” I said, rubbing them. Brand clamped his hand on my shoulder to keep me in a straight line. “They were on fire.” “Ah.” Then: “What?” “Your eyeballs,” he said. “Were on fire. When your Aspect took over.”
“He expects everything,” Quinn said. His face hardened. “But so do I.”
Quinn wins the book.
Brand knocked my hand away and began to do it himself. He’d once spent six weeks training with a professional massage therapist as a birthday gift for me. “I’m not making a move,” Brand said to Addam. “He has a bad shoulder.”
Stop with the territorial pissing
“You understand that being a Companion isn’t just a job, right? Just because we call ourselves partners now, the Companion part of me doesn’t go away. I can’t turn it off like a light switch. It’s not a choice; it’s not a lifestyle; it’s my purpose.” “You’re right, it’s not a choice. You never had a choice.
Which is totally fucked up. He's enslaved to Rune.
I ran my palms over my eyes. “We just covered a lot of ground, didn’t we?”
Why can't men cry in this book?
He tapped his eyeglasses and a tiny diamond earring almost hidden in the folder of his earlobe.
