Echoes of Fire (The Mercury Pack, #4)

by Suzanne Wright

I hope you’re a screamer.” “Funny. My ex said the same thing. He was disappointed too.”

Madisyn looked her up and down. “Well, you look in shape. ‘Round’ is a shape, isn’t it?”

“My mother always said your kind is nature’s idea of a cruel trick. You’re walking, breathing plush toys—so fluffy and cute that people would never think there was a single thing dangerous about you. But you have an insane amount of attitude for creatures so small, and you just straight up don’t give a fuck. She said, ‘Poke at their patience, and wait for the craziness to commence.’”

“Give me a holler when you want your balls back, Slater—they’ve been in my purse for a while now.” Bracken’s mouth twitched. “I wondered where they were.”

“Someone ate a full bowl of Bitch Flakes this morning.” “Dude, I ate two.”

“I’ve eaten chicken breasts that were bigger than your tits.” “And I’ve worn heels that are longer than the dick you appear to be packing,”

“I don’t hate you. But if you’re ever pushed into traffic, there’s a good chance that it was me.”

“There a reason why you have crop circles in your front yard?” “Freaks out the old bastard next door.”

Nick’s brow furrowed. “I thought she was a caracal. Maybe even an ocelot. I definitely did not think she was one of those snuggly little death dealers.”

You never startled them. You never cornered them. You never touched their food. And you never fed them after midnight.

I adore how they manage to look constantly cranky. It only makes them cuter.”

“Fucking with me would be a grave mistake.” “I’ll pencil in some time to dwell on it tomorrow.”

“These guys bothering you, baby?” “They’re giving it their best shot, bless their hearts. I’ve heard that God does love a trier.”

“I can see that something’s going on between you two. So let me ask you, if someone was keeping Madisyn from you, what would you do?” “I wouldn’t need to do anything. She’d gut them herself.”

“If you and Maddie are going to have kids, don’t have more than one. Or at least wait a decade before having the next one.” Bracken’s brow furrowed. “Why?” Ingrid explained, “Pallas kits don’t get along well with their siblings if they’re too close in age.” Luke pulled up his sleeve, showing a huge scar on his elbow. “Tate gave me that when I was ten. I ate one of his fries.” Tate pointed to a scar on his neck. “That was courtesy of Luke when he was twelve. I went into his room without knocking first. Little bastard nicked an artery.” “You startled me on purpose,” Luke accused. “And you did it because you could.” Tate shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You can tell yourself it can’t be that bad, but you’ll change your mind eight years down the line when you’re disciplining one kit for trying to kill the other in its sleep.” Luke glared at his brother. “Not a night I’ll ever forget.” Again, Tate shrugged. “That sound you made annoyed me.” Luke’s brows snapped together. “What? Snoring?” “Breathing.” As the brothers proceeded to argue, Vinnie held up a finger. “One, Slater. Just one.”

Madisyn’s like a candy bar—half sweet, half nuts.”

Dominic added, “I’m happy for you, Brack. I am. Though it really does pain me that I’ll never get to use her thighs as earmuffs.”

“At least I don’t talk in my sleep. What was it you said the other night? Oh yeah. ‘Fuck you, Dumbledore. I want my wand back.’”

last week, you muttered, ‘Gollum, you best get your magic gophers out of my goddamn rockery.’”