He shakes his head and his mouth is quirked at one corner. I can't tell if he thinks I am sort of amusing or truly pathetic. It's especially hard to tell because we are both looking resolutely at the teacher so she can't accuse us of not paying attention. We talk out of the sides of our mouths, like gangsters in those old movies my dad likes to watch.
What'd you want to talk about?" "Just to commend you on your revenge last night. It must have been fiendish. Of course, I can only imagine since there wasn't a mark on Chase this morning, only residual bliss." "He heals fast! I whaled on his face. Must've been thirty hits." Natalya's lips quirked. "You're glowing like a Lite-Brite." "Shut it, fairy.
You didn't feed from her, ' he said, and this was not a question. 'Swill poison? Not my kind of fun, little brother.' One corner of Stefan's mouth quirked up. He made no response to this, but simply looked at Damon with eyes that were... knowing. Damon bridled. 'I told the truth!' 'Going to take it up as a hobby?
Can we get back to how we're going to kill Nick? And what's this about a dead body? You'd better start talking quick, Ivy, 'cause I'm not going to play hide-and-seek with a dead guy in my trunk. I did that in college, and I'm not going to do it again." A smile quirked Ivy's mouth. "Really?" she asked, and I flushed.
He quirked an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one afterwards might be able to safely accuse him of having done it. Sei knew the look. Names are meaningless, plosives and breath, but those who liked the slope of her waist often made much of hers, which denoted purity, clarity-as though it had any more in the way of depth than others. They wondered, all of them, if she really was pure, as pure as her name announced her to be, all white banners and hymeneal grace.
Catherynne M. Valente
Some burns," Clary said. "Nothing that matters" "Everything that happens to you matters to me." "Well that certainly explains why you haven't called me back once. And the last time I saw you, you ran away without telling me why. It's like dating a ghost." Jace's mouth quirked up slightly at the side. "Not exactly. Isabelle actually dated a ghost. She could tell you--" "No," Clary said. "It was a metaphor. And you know exactly what I mean.
His eyes drifted leisurely back up to my face and he smiled at me appreciatively, 'Kelsey, when a man spends time with a beautiful woman, he needs to pace himself. I quirked my eyebrow at him and laughed. 'Yeah, I'm a regular marathon alright.' He kissed my fingers. 'Exactly. A wise man never sprints... in a marathon.
Mab turned back to me and eyed me up and down. She quirked one eyebrow, very slightly, somehow conveying layers of disapproval toward multiple aspects of my appearance, conduct, and situation, and said, 'Finally.' 'There's been a lot on my mind,' I replied. 'It seems unlikely that your cares will lighten,' Queen Mab replied. 'Improve your mind.'
Joshua tried to find the right words to explain how things were-how they'd always been. "It's like... prairie dogs." Ben quirked an eyebrow at him. "You see the holes. 'N' you know the dogs are around, even if you don't see the dogs themselves." "What the hell are you talkin' about?" "Gay. Cowboys. They're there. Like a lot of single cowboys, they go into Billings once a month, only they ain't there so see women. There's no point in flingin' yourself around in public, 's all.
Dream is the personalized myth, myth the depersonalized dream; both myth and dream are symbolic in the same general way of the dynamic of the psyche. But in the dream the forms are quirked by the peculiar troubles of the dreamer, whereas in myth the problems and solutions sown are directly valid for all mankind
Over the years I've collected a thousand memories of you, every glimpse, every word you've ever said to me. All those visits to your family's home, those dinners and holidays""I could hardly wait to walk through the front door and see you." The corners of his mouth quirked with reminiscent amusement. "You, in the middle of that brash, bull-headed lot... I love watching you deal with your family. You've always been everything I thought a woman should be. And I have wanted you every second of my life since we first met.
Oh r-really? Do t-tell?' I quirked an eyebrow back at him. 'Well, usually it's best to take your shoes and socks off before you step in the stream, better balance on an uneven surface. Also, you avoid that unpleasant squelchy feeling when you wear the shoes againlater.' He paused, smirking. 'Also, if I was going to paddle barefoot 'I was going to paddle barefoot upstream in Yorkshire, I'd wait until at least May before I tried it. But you go ahead, love. You're clearly a Spartan lass.
He groaned, "Goddamn, you're so hot." "I know, " she whimpered as she moved restlessly under his weight. "I'm burning up." At that, he had to lift his head and grin down at her. "No, baby, " he said gently, rocking his hips to begin moving in her. "That wasn't what I meant. I meant, you're so hot." Her eyebrows quirked, and dimples appeared in her cheeks as she suppressed a grin. "Yeah, I knew that.
I could have sworn I just heard him thinking about the proposal he had planned. Red roses and champagne waiting at the restaurant, but maybe I imagined it.' I frowned in turn. 'You could read his thoughts?' 'It is probably just my imagination running away with me. I'm so freaked out that I plucked the idea from my own head. I'm not a mind reader.' 'Well, it is easy enough to test. Try to concentrate on me and tell me what I'm thinking.' Finally, Nessa's eyes lit up and met mine. Amused, she quirked a smile at me. 'Really, Cora, that's lame. I love fluffy bunnies, is not what I expected.
Did you hear about the recently discovered temple in the Sudan ?" I stared at him. "Yeah. I'm a regular reader of National Geographic." Ol' Frankie's brows quirked. "You wield sarcasm, madam, as well as a master swordsman does." "Gee, thanks." I smiled at him and batted my lashes. Quit flirting . Patrick flicked the command into my head. He sounded half-annoyed, half-amused. I'm not flirting. Quit being cute and likeable. An impossible request. I've always been too adorable for words.
The sight of a beautiful, naked Amy sliding her finger into her mouth gave Sam a little jolt, she saw. The front of his jeans instantly appeared fuller. 'What have you got baby?' he asked, feigning nonchalance and failing. His eyes had taken on a predatory gleam. 'Chocolate sauce.' He quirked his eyebrow. 'I stole it from Janie.' Sam's mouth twisted. 'That's Janie's homemade chocolate sauce?' 'Yup.' 'She's going to kill you, ' he said as he crossed the threshold. 'At least I'll die happy, ' she responded with a devilish grin.
This just gets worse and worse, " Rob Pierre sighed as he skimmed Leonard Boardman's synopsis of his latest gleanings from the Solarian League reporters covering the PRH. "How can one person-one person, Oscar!-do this much damage? She's like some damned elemental force of nature!" "Harrington?" Oscar Saint-Just quirked an eyebrow and snorted harshly at Pierre's nodded confirmation. "She's just happened to be in the right places-or the wrong ones, I suppose, from our perspective-for the last, oh, ten years or so. That's the official consensus from my analysts, at least. The other theory, which seems to have been gaining a broader following of late, is that she's in league with the Devil.
Did you really think you could quit?" He moved closer, his steps slow, purposeful. "Just fax me a damned piece of paper and I'd be forced to let you walk away from me?" "You don't have a choice." Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat and moved around the chair. Putting furniture between them seemed like a smart idea. "I quit, end of story." "The hell it is, " he growled as he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "I've given you space, Lydia, but it's time we talk." "There's nothing to say." He pointedly glanced at the chair and quirked a brow. "Afraid, little Lydia?" Afraid of her own ability to keep her hands off him, yeah. "You don't scare me, Dane. You'd never hurt me." "Then quit acting so skittish and come here.
Viktor looked at the older man's nightshirt, robe, and nightcap. His lips quirked into a smile. 'The hour is late, and the household sleeps. How is it that you are still awake?' 'I knew you would be knocking on the door sooner or later.' Pickles looked down his long nose at him. 'You have passed the previous six nights with Her Ladyship.' 'You are observant, my good man.' 'No, Your Highness, I am the one who locks the door at night.' Pickles reached into his robe's pocket and produced a key. He passed it to the prince, saying, 'After tonight, let yourself into the house.' Viktor grinned at the majordomo and lifted the key out of his hand. 'Your trust honors me.' 'You are unlikely to abscond with the silver, ' Pickles drawled.
You are sitting in my chair, my lord." She said the words very civilly, she thought. Although he quirked a brow and lowered his chin as if giving her one of those looks. Like really? In a way that wasn't a question. She was telling a fae king, a hawk fae king, and a guest of the dark fae, that he should be sitting in her seat? But she didn't stop there. "You may sit there if it pleases you." She pointed to Micala's seat since he was not at the meal. Her mother's mouth gaped and for once she didn't have an immediate rebuke ready for Ritasia. The king gave Ritasia such a sinister smile, she was afraid she might have gone a little too far with her first encounter with him. She quickly remembered her manners, curtseyed, though, because she wasn't wearing a gown, she thought she looked a little ridiculous, then looked back up at him.
There, there, sweetin', ' he murmured into her hair. 'He loved me, he truly did, ' she gasped. 'I know he did, ' Michael said. 'And I loved him.' 'Mm-hmm.' She raised her head, glaring angrily. 'You don't even believe in love. Why are you agreeing with me?' He laughed. 'Because'-he leaned down and licked at the tears on her cheeks, his lips brushing softly against her sensitive skin as he spoke, 'ye've bewitched and bespelled me, my sweet Silence, didn't ye know? I'll agree that the sky is pink, that the moon is made o' marzipan and sugared raisins, and that mermaids swim the muddy waters o' the Thames, if ye'll only stop weepin'. Me chest breaks apart and gapes wide open when I see tears in yer pretty eyes. Me lungs, me liver, and me heart cannot stand to be thus exposed.' She stopped breathing. She simply inhaled and stopped, looking at him in wonder. His lips were quirked in a mocking smile, but his eyes-his fathomless black eyes-seemed to hold a great pain as if his strong chest really had been split open.
The walls weren't moving, and the room was open - gaping. No colors, but shades of darkness, of night. Only those star-flecked violet eyes were bright, full of color and light. He gave me a lazy smile before he leaned forward. I pullled away, but his hands were like shackles. I could do nothing as his mouth met with my cheek, and he licked away a tear. His tongue was hot against my skin, so starling that I couldn't move as he licked away another path of salt water, and then another. My body went taut and loose all at once and I burned, even as chills shuddered along my limbs. It was only when his tongue danced along the damp edges of my lashes that I jerked back. He chuckled as I scrambled for the corner of the cell. I wiped my face as I glared at him. He smirked, sitting down against a wall. "I figured that would get you to stop crying." "It was disgusting." I wiped my face again. "Was it?" He quirked an eyebrow and pointed to his palm - to the place where my tatoo would be. "Beneath all your pride and stubbornness, I could have sowrn I detected something that felt differently. Interesting." "Get out." "As usual, your gratitude is overwhelming.
Sarah J. Maas
Kimmy, your papa has told you I'm not your uncle, has he not?" he asked the girl. Kimmy stared back at him with a quiet, solemn wisdom. "But you're my uncle because I picked you to be. But I understand you're upset with me and Mommy right now, 'cause you think we were mean to Daddy." She reached out to touch his cheek with her tiny hand. "I promise, we're gonna make Daddy very happy, though." His lips quirked sadly. Crowe realized that perhaps Kimmy was right, in some ways. Ivan had been furious since the night Kimmy had arrived. "Yes, I know you make your papa very happy, " he said softly. "And perhaps it's not so much anger I feel as it is jealousy, because my beautiful little girl no longer needs her papa." "All little girls need their daddy." Kimmy promised him then. "Just sometimes." She gave Crowe a very firm look before turning back to Ivan. "Our daddies just get silly and hurt our feelings really bad and don't know it. Did you hurt your little girl's feelings, Uncle Ivan?" "I would hope I did not, " he answered, almost amused. "Well, I think you should ask her." Kimmy crossed her arms and stuck out one little sneaker-shod foot as she nodded wisely. "And just ask her nice, like you would ask her if she wanted ice cream. Maybe have ice cream when you ask her." She nodded again as she gave this advice. Ivan blinked back at her, then lifted his gaze to Crowe. "You, my friend, are in so much trouble, " he murmured. Kimmy turned back and flashed Crowe a grin so innocent he nearly winced. Oh Lord- "Yeah, " he answered Ivan. "I am." "Come, little one." Focusing on Kimmy once more, he held out his hands. "You may call me Uncle Ivan then." An infectious giggle fell from her lips as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged with all the exuberance of an emotionally confident six-year-old. "I didn't ask for permission, Uncle Ivan." She smacked a kiss to his cheek. "I already knew it was okay." Then she turned and bounced out of the room just as quickly.
Except fang. I glared at him. "Go on, try to stop me, I dare you." It was like the old days when we used to wrestle, each trying to get the better of the other. I was ready to take him down, my hands curled into fist. "I was just going to say be careful, " Fang told me. He stepped closer and brushed some hair out of my eyes. "And I've got your back." He motioned with his head toward the torpedo chamber. Oh my God. It hit me like a tsunami then, how perfect he was for me, how no one else would ever, could ever, be so perfect for me, how he was everything I could possibly hope for, as a friend, boyfriend, maybe even more. He was it for me. There would be no more looking. I really, really loved him, with a whole new kind of love I'd never felt before, something that made every other kind of love I'd ever felt feel washed out and wimpy in comparison. I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breathe in my lungs. and air sacs. Too bad I was going out to face almost certain death. Right there in front of everyone, I threw my arms around his neck and smashed my mouth against his. He was startled for a second, then his strong arms wrapped around me so tightly I could hardly breathe. "ZOMG, " I heard Nudge whisper, but still fang and I kissed slanting our heads this way and that to get closer. I could have stood there and kissed him happily for the next millennium, but Angel, or what was left of her was still out there in the could dark ocean. Reluctantly, I ended the kiss, took a step back. Fang's obsidian eyes were glittering brightly and his stoic face had a look of wonder on it."Gotta go, " I said quietly. A half smile quirked his mouth. "Yeah. Hurry back." I nodded and he stepped out of the air lock chamber, keeping his eyes fixed on me, memorizing me as he hit the switch that sealed the chamber. The doors hissed shut with a kind of finality, and I realized that my heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to start snapping ribs. I was scared. I was crazily, deeply, incredibly, joyously, terrifyingly in love. I was on a death mission. Before my head simply exploded from so much emotion, I hit the large button that pressurized the air lock enough for the doors to open to the ocean outside. I really, really hoped that I would prove somewhat uncrushable, like Angel did. The door cracked open below me and I saw the first dark glint of frigid water.
Her feet moved into the vast space, but all she could see was Cyrus. He strode through the room the way a captain commands his ship. Was it possible his maroon bruise made him more dashing? He was a fine sight in a black broadcloth coat. Her salacious gaze dropped to a brass button lower on his waistcoat. The metal glimmered, winking at her with flirtatious intent very near the tuft of hair she remembered so well at his navel. The corner of Cyrus's mouth crooked. If she looked ready to devour him, he read the message on her face, no words required. 'Claire.' He said her name like a treasured sound. Then, her landlord bent low over her hand, kissing her knuckles and keeping her fingers in a tender hold. Her flesh sung a merry tune recalling how she'd gripped those broad shoulders of his in a fit of passion. Was that only two nights ago? Her cheeks turned hot at the memory. Cyrus rose to his full height, holding her hand. He planted a kiss on her forehead. 'Mmmm... ' he hummed approvingly. 'You smell of almonds.' His lips lingered on her hairline, giving her another soft kiss. 'And vanilla, I think. Something you cooked?' He breathed in her scent, standing close yet not intimidating in the least. His own smell was clean and starched with a hint of coffee. She reached high, touching his face like a woman with every right to partake of the feast he offered. 'It's face powder.' One finger stroked the smooth square of his jaw, her voice curving with amusement. 'Today I join the ranks of ladies who meet for luncheon, and I can't be sure if I've been lured here or goaded by one very challenging man put on earth to harass my senses.' She caressed his jaw, the grain of his skin smooth to the touch. He must've shaved in the last hour. His mouth quirked sideways, pressing the maroon bruise higher up his cheek. 'Something tells me you're the perfect woman to soothe such a man or put him in his place.' His pewter stare flicked over her exposed skin, settling on her cleavage. 'As to your senses, I shall treat them with the utmost care.