Quotes by Erin Kellison

So either I help you or Im on my own? With no way to get to Lambert. No way to stop the rage inside. No way to feel remotely normal again.Thats the choice, she said.

Who the fuck is the Sandman? Still ludicrous. A fairy tale.Mirren crossed her legs and shifted in her seat. Elvis winked at him from her breasts. Its not like Ive met Him. My father never invited Him over to dinner. Hes --- she took a deep breath and did a lazy little wave of her hand, as if searching for the right words -- the power that dominates Darkside. Pure creation.

They moved as a unit, a first for her. The madman and the nightmare.

She glanced again toward Vincent. And who is he again?Vincent grinned. Im Vincent Blackman of the SpiderSly Company. Mirren and I are going to sleep together; we just have to get through this bullshit of her fathers first.

The wind stilled a bit and he blinked the sand out of his eyes. Before him stood nothing less than the god of the Scrape. It had to be a god. He was huge, muscled, hung like an elephant, and sandy gold, just like his domain.

If she couldnt be with Harlen in Washington, DC, this was the place to be.Seras mobile screen lit, and she glanced down to find a text from him: I have to pee.

Hed pushed and pushed and pushed until she had nowhere else to go but away from him. Hed been young back then himself. Inexperienced. Stupid. A little patience accomplished a lot more. Hard lesson to learn. Worst way to learn it.

This was the stuff of novels with -- yeah -- men like him on the cover.

He dragged her to him, and she, being equally focused on attaching her mouth to his, lost her balance. Stepping in for the save, he held her up against the doorjamb with his hard body, mouth rasping hers, tongue deep enough to touch her soul. Could be oxygen deprivation, but she saw stars behind her closed lids.

The sooner its over, the sooner we can go back to bed. Everything good happens in bed.

She gave herself up to the waves of the storm. If they drowned, it would be together, a shattered vessel on the sea, a collision of longing and desire.

The texture of her skin was phantom silk, not human., not blood-warm, but dizzyingly hot anyway.

The shadow acts on instinct, not reason.

The Agora had fallen, too. Vince turned the radio off, dismissing what theyd just heard, and merged onto I-87. A little shriek of madness sounded in the back of his brain, but he said, with admirable calm considering, Seriously, love, I think weve got this.