#fever

I heard there are no male sidhe-seers." Where did you hear that?" Around." And which one of those are you in doubt about Ms. Lane?" Which one of what?" Whether I see the Fae, or whether I'm a man. I believe I've laid your mind to rest on the former; shall I relieve it on the latter?" He reached for his belt. Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "You're a leftie, Barrons." Touche, Ms. Lane," he murmered. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#doubt

I didn’t ask. Some things are better left unsaid. He looked at me and I shivered. I never get enough of him. Never will. He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always. Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever. Later we would go to bed, and when he rose over me, dark and vast and eternal, I’d know joy. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#karen-marie-moning #shadowfever #rose

Jericho Barrons was my poison now. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#fever-series #karen-marie-moning

Velvet looks horrified. “If you are fool enough to address King R’jan, you will do it thus and in no other manner! ‘My King, Liege, Lord, and Master, your servant begs you grant it leave to speak.’” “Wow. Totally delusionary there.” “Good luck with that,” Ryodan says. “She doesn't beg to speak, or do anything else. You can lock her up, down, and sideways and it’s never going to happen.” I beam at him. I had no idea he thought so highly of me. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#fae #fever-series #iced #mega #ryodan

He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?" "Jericho" "Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight. My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck? ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#mac #shadowfever #lust

He wasn't handsome. That was too calm a word. He was intensely masculine. He was sexual. He attracted. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#darkfever #sexuality

Home, Ms. Lane?” His deep voice was gently amused. “I have to call it something,” I said morosely. “They say home is where the heart is. I think mine’s satin-lined and six feet under. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#bloodfever #mac #mac

And you can tell Darroc that Ms. Lane is mine. If he wants her, he can bloody well come and get her ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#dreamfever #fiona #mac #mac

He raised a brow. 'Petunia, Ms. Lane?' I scowled. "Ass, Barrons. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#darkfever #mac #mac

The death clock is ticking slowly in our breast, and each drop of blood measures its time, and our life is a lingering fever. ↗

— Georg Buchner

#clock #death #drop #each #fever