Iris Hunter (InstagramREADS)

“I opened a writing app and began typing what I knew about Pierce.
Vain. Terminal fear of T-shirts or any other garment that would cover his pectorals.
Deadly. Doesn't hesitate to kill. Holding him at gunpoint would result in me being barbecued. Whee.
Likes burning things. Now here's an understatement. Good information to have, but not useful for finding him.
Antigovernment. Neither here nor there.
Hmm. So far my best plan would be to build a mountain of gasoline cans and explosives, stick a Property of US Government sign on it, and throw a T-shirt over Pierce's head when he showed up to explode it. Yes, this would totally work.”
― Ilona Andrews, Burn for Me

“Relax, it only hurts a little,” she murmured in Edwin’s ear as she stroked his head and shoulders from behind. “What you feel later more than makes up for it.”“But will I…will I have to drink blood after I am…initiated?”

“Don’t worry, Edwin. I promise it will be many years before either you or Ophelia will need to seek your sustenance in such a manner.” Hamlet kissed his cheek. “Are you ready?”

Edwin nodded. Closing his eyes, he turned his head slightly to give Hamlet easier access. He felt a momentary pinch and then…

Ecstasy! Overwhelming warmth flooded his veins as colors exploded in his mind and a feeling of euphoria lifted him from the bed to the skies. He was flying free from the confines of his body. He soared above the clouds…heading into the stars.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Ophelia giggled and clapped her hands. “I wish I could experience it more often, but Hamlet says it’s even better once you’re on the receiving end.”

He opened his eyes slowly. Still light-headed, Edwin observed the gaze of mutual pleasure in Hamlet’s dark eyes. His sensual lips glistened with tint of red. Instead of horror or aversion, Edwin felt complete peace and contentment.

“Thank you.” Without hesitation Edwin pulled Hamlet's lips to his and kissed him.”
― Celine Chatillon, Blood Bond

“He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn’t know what to expect inside—smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts?
Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking.
“Have we stopped moving?” he said hoarsely”
― J.R. Ward, Lover at Last

“You're Mad Rogan!" Leon burst out.
"Yes," Mad Rogan said, his voice calm.
"And you can break cities?"
"Yes."
"And you have all this money and magic?"
"Yes."
Where was Leon going with this?
My cousin blinked. "And you look . . . like that?"
Mad Rogan nodded. "Yes."
Leon's dark eyes went wide. He looked at Mad Rogan, then glanced back at himself. At fifteen, Leon weighed barely a hundred pounds. His arms and legs were like chopsticks.
"There is no justice in the world!" Leon announced.”
― Ilona Andrews, Burn for Me