Rambo Books

“A block from his hotel, Gary cleared his throat. “I thought you said going back to my room might be dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous, Gary,” Gregori said softly. “You are Rambo, remember?”
Savannah’s laughter rang out, rivaling the jazz quartet playing on the corner. Heads turned to listen to her, then to watch her, stealing away the attention of the audience gathered in a loose semi-circle around the quartet. She moved in the human world, completely comfortable in it, a part of it. Gregori had walked unseen, and that was how he preferred it. She was dragging him into her world. He could hardly believe he was walking down a crowded street with a mortal with half the block staring openly at them.
“I didn’t know you knew who Rambo was,” Savannah said, trying not to giggle. She couldn’t imagine Gregori in a theater watching a Rambo movie.
“You saw a Rambo flick?” Gary was incredulous.
Gregori made a sound somewhere between contempt and derision. “I read Gary’s memories on the subject. Interesting. Silly, but interesting.” He glanced at Gary. “This is your hero?”
Gary’s grin was as mischievous as Savannah’s. “Until I met you, Gregori.”
Gregori growled, a low rumble of menace. His two companions just laughed disrespectfully, not in the least intimidated.
“I’ll bet he’s a secret Rambo fan,” Savannah whispered confidentially.
Gary nodded. “He probably sneaks into movie theaters for every old showing.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Magic