Jess

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Addam Saint Nicholas faced away from me. He had an MP3 player in one hand and was dancing. There was a tray of food, a bottle of wine, a small stack of new-release paperbacks, and a camping cot. He wore only black suit pants. No shoes, socks, shirt, or sigils. My first thought was that he danced like Brand. Then, in an astonishingly fluid motion, Addam snagged the leg of a roughly-sharpened footstool he’d hidden in his waistline, and spun around to stake me. His eyes jerked from my extended sabre blade to my face. His fingers spread open and the stake clattered to the ground. He said, “Ah. ...more
The Last Sun (The Tarot Sequence, #1)
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