Trouble With the Cursed (The Hollows, #16)

by Kim Harrison

“You pinned my magic down,” he whispered. “Made it yours. I gave it to you, and you . . . God, Rachel.”

“What we remember and choose to act on is not dead, not set in stone,” he said, and my shoulders slumped. “There’s no I did this then, so that will happen now. That question of what we choose

“But you’re out here moping about it, so your bad choice is still alive. Change it.”

Pike was a scion, the closest thing a living vampire could get to being undead without actually not needing to breathe.

“In,” he demanded, his eyes pupil black. Somehow I squelched my desire to pat his cheek.

“Safe?” Doyle echoed, and smiling, I leaned across the van, giving his face a little pat to distract him with one hand as I shot him with a sleepy-time charm with the other.

“I’m fine.” Pike smacked his chest, then coughed. “Real good,” he gasped as he caught his breath. “Never better.”

Pike leaned in, his small but sharp teeth showing as he yanked the hapless clerk closer. “Give us ten minutes,” he said, his low voice sultry with a bound heat. “And I will give you a night.”

“Stop,” I interrupted him. “Or I’ll have Getty tape your wings shut while you sleep.” “Ha!” Jenks barked, now flying backward before us. “You think she could—”

Oh?

Sort of a TARDIS kind of a thing.

Is it okay that I still miss you, Kisten?

Yes.

His lips parted. “The Goddess help me. You think I’m Hodin?” I stood, afraid to tap a line. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to. “What’s his name?” Trent put up a hand. “Her. And it’s Red. Rachel, it’s me.”

Don't every mess up pronouns in front of Trent.

I wondered if there might be a threesome in their future. Not with me, but Nina.