#thompson

Mine. He was mine, and not even death would take him from me—not if I could help it. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#death

I don't like lies," said Bran, and I knew I'd failed to keep the pain of his revelation from my face. "Not even lies of omission. Hard truths can be dealt with, triumphed over, but lies will destroy your soul. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#mercedes-thompson #patricia-briggs #philosophy #truth #inspirational

So then, how can I trust you now?" Nathan asked. His tone was light, but his face was guarded. Now would be an ideal time for that kiss, my brain whispered, but I couldn't take the coward's way out. "Because," I said simply, "I'm in love with you. ↗

— Alicia Thompson

#psych-major-syndrome #love

You’re a dead man,” Kyle said. “Warren doesn’t take kindly to people who hurt me. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#humor #kyle-brooks #love #mercy-thompson #patricia-briggs

C’est moi, c’est moi,’tis I,' I told him. It seemed appropriately melodramatic, though I didn’t know if he’d catch the reference. I shouldn’t have worried. Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Trust you to quote Lancelot rather than Guinevere. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#mercy-thompson #musical-theater-reference #paranormal #sexism #shifter

Hey, Adam,” I said. I thought you’d want to know that Warren and Darryl made it out of the vampire den alive.” I sucked in my breath. “You didn’t actually agree to their meeting on Marsilia’s grounds?” He laughed. “No, it just sounded better than saying they made it out of Denny’s alive. It might not be romantic, but it’s open all night and set in the middle of a brightly lit parking lot with no dark places for skulking parties to ambush from. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#patricia-briggs #romantic

Wolves eat coyotes," Gordon said[...] If he weren't an old man, I had some rude things I could have said to that. "Yes," observed Adam blandly. "I do." Yep. That was the one that came to mind. And he didn't even blush when he said it. Maybe Gordon would miss the double entendre. But he grinned cheerfully at Adam. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#werewolf #observation

Mercy," he mumbled. "What the hell did you do to my French Roast? ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#mercy-thompson #moon-called #coffee

Drink it,” I told her. “It’s good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don’t drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn’t be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. It should taste sort of like bitter syrup.” She gave me a smile smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it down in one gulp. “Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, “I make the coffee. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#moon-called #coffee

Fourteen preteen girls, a tableful of werewolves—there were certain monstrous similarities. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#werewolves