#fever

Had he stood outside my door as I'd stood outside his, fists at his sides, lips drawn back? Did it have him as bad as it had me? Was it eating at him, gnawing at him with the same sharp vicious little teeth that wouldn't let me sleep? Yes, it was. I could see the rage of insatiable uninvited lust in every line of that dark, stoic face that had once been too subtly etched for me to read. I wasn't the only one lying awake at night, fevered with memories, tossing, turning, soaking my sheets, burning up--not for Fae sex, but him, damn it all to hell, him. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#fever-series #mac #lust

You're Mac," he says. "And I'm Jericho. And nothing else matters. Never will. You exsist in a place that is beyond all rules for me. Do you understand that?" "I do. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#jzb #shadowfever #mac

There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#darkfever #karen-marie-moning #mac #mac

Dubh is do?" I was incredulous. It was no wonder I hadn't been able to find the stupid word. "Should I be calling pubs poos?" "Dubh is Gaelic, Ms. Lane. Pub is not. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#darkfever #karen #mac #marie #moning

You choose what you can live with, and what you can't live without. ↗

— jericho barrons

#jericho-barrons #mac #mackayla-lane #mac

Unpredictable as a hungry lion, he might be feared by everyone else, but he never ripped out my throat, only licked me, and, if his tongue was a little rough sometimes, it was worth it to walk beside the king of the jungle. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#fever-series #mac #mac

It's best to let her go," he says. No, no, that's wrong. It's never right to give up on someone. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#fever #give-up #let-go #love #never

I should not have loved my daughter as I did. Not in this world in which nothing lives for long. You children are flies. You are roses. You multiply and die. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#fever #lauren-destefano #love

In the morning she found pieces of a bird chopped and scattered by the fan blood sprayed onto the mosquito net, its body leaving paths on the walls like red snails that drifted down in lumps. She could imagine the feathers while she had slept falling around her like slow rain. ↗

— Michael Ondaatje

#stylised-violence #survival #imagination

Barrons: "He got upset it wouldn't shut up and tore its head off." Mac: "The child?" I gasped ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#humor #paranormal-romance #humor