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Anne Bishop

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“Carefully bracing himself so that he wouldn't hurt her, he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. He raised his head. Her haunted sapphire eyes stared at him. "Daemon?" There was so much uncertainty in her voice. "Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice husky with the effort not to cry. "I've missed you." Her hand moved slowly, with effort, until it rested against his face. Her lips curved into a smile. "Daemon." This time, when she said his name, it sounded like a promise, like a lovely caress.”

“It was Jaenelle's voice, but... She was medium height, slender, and fair-skinned. Her gold mane--not quite hair and not quite fur--was brushed up and back from her exotic face and didn't hide the delicately pointed ears. In the center of her forehead was a tiny, spiral horn. A narrow strip of gold fur traced her spine, ending in a small gold and white fawn tail that flicked over her bare buttocks. The legs were human and shapely, but changed below the calf. Instead of feet, she had dainty horse's hooves. Her human hands had sheathed claws like a cat's. As she shifted position to slip another shard into place, he saw the small, round breasts, the feminine curve of waist and hips, the dark-gold triangle of hair between her legs. Who...? But he knew. Even before she walked over and looked at him, even before he saw the feral intelligence in those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes, he knew. Terrifying and beautiful. Human and Other. Gentle and violent. Innocent and wise. *I am Witch,* she said, a small, defiant quiver in her voice. *I know.* His voice had a seductive throb in it, a hunger he couldn't control or mask.”

“Why?" He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she'd just asked him to count every leaf on every tree in the Old Place. "Because... you're you.”

“Frustration fills his golden eyes. "What Queen? Who is coming?" "The living myth," I whisper. "Dreams made flesh." His shock is replaced instantly by a fierce hunger. "You're sure?" The room is a swirling mist. He's the only thing still in sharp focus. He's the only thing I need. "I saw her in the tangled web, Daemon. I saw her.”

“The Dimwit's Guide to the Female Mind might assist your efforts in understanding human females. But it must be pointed out that this subject can be a dangerous adventure and should be undertaken with extreme caution. After all, human males have been trying to understand their females for generations, and most of the time they come away from these encounters looking like someone stuck their tails into an electric socket.”

“Is that why you've been pushing me away? Because of how you look? [...] I waited for you my whole life. Yearned for you my whole life. After Tersa told me you were coming, I spent seven hundred years searching for you[....] I never gave a damn what you looked like--tall, short, fat, thin, plain, beautiful, ugly. Why would I care about what you looked like? The flesh was the shell that housed the glory[....] Even if I couldn't be your physical lover, there are other ways to be a lover and I know them all. So don't stand there and tell me how you feel depends on how you look!”

“You're not going to answer, are you?" Jaenelle asked after a minute of teeth-grinding silence. "No." "Don't you know the answer?" "Whether I know the answer or not is beside the point. It's not something a man discusses with a young girl." "But you know the answer." Daemon growled.”

“- As wiccanfae não merecem estar entre nós...e Tir Alainn não é o lugar delas. - Nesse caso, sugiro que se vá embora. Lucian fixara-a com o olhar até Selena começar a perder mão sobre si mesma, em vias de se descontrolar. - Eu sou Fae - afirmara - e sou Filha da Casa de Gaian, o que implica que também sou wiccanfae. No entanto, se eu sou wiccanfae,o que julga o Senhor do Fogo que é? - Como?! - O fogo é um dos elementos da Mãe Universal. Não é uma dádiva dos Fae. O único motivo pelo qual o senhor o domina é por ser descendente de pelos menos uma pessoa que pertencia à Casa de Gaian. - Mentira - brandira Lucian - Eu sou Fae. - Wiccanfae! - atirara Selena, no mesmo tom. - Quem tem o seu poder não pode ter sangue puro. Quem julgava o senhor que era?...”

“For the first time, they were seeing the dream beneath the flesh. Karla stared at the pointed ears that had come from the Dea al Mon, the hands with sheathed claws that had come from the Tigre, the hooves peeking out from beneath the black gown that could have come from the centaurs or the horses or the unicorns. Most of all, she stared at the tiny spiral horn. The living myth. Dreams made flesh. But, oh, had any of them really thought about who the dreamers had been? No wonder the kindred love her. No wonder we've all loved her. Karla quietly cleared her throat to ask the question she suddenly hoped wouldn't be answered. "Who is going to war with Terreille?" "I am," Witch said.”

“You disappoint me, Cassandra. Your legends paint you differently," Daemon said softly, his voice thick with malevolence. "I'm a Priestess serving at this Altar," she said, working to keep her voice steady. "You're mistaken, if you think--" He laughed softly. She stepped back from the sound and found herself pressed against the counter. "Do you think I can't tell the difference between a Priestess and a Queen? And the Jewels, my dear, name you for what you are." She bent her head slightly in acknowledgment. "So I'm Cassandra. What do you want, Prince?”

“*I don't want the body,* she whimpered. *It hurts.* *Not always, sweetheart. Not always. Without the body, how will you hear a bird's song? How will you feel a warm summer rain on your skin? How will you taste nutcakes? How will you walk on a beach at sunset and feel the sand and surf under your... hooves?*”

“This is Ruthie Stuart, Officer Kowalski’s mate. She will show your pups around the Market Square,” Simon said. Sarah giggled. Robert said, “We’re not pups; we’re kids.” Simon looked at Robert and Sarah, then at Ruthie. Kids. He’d heard Merri Lee say something about when she was a kid. But the word didn’t apply to her now because she was an adult, so it had never occurred to him that, maybe, humans had a little shifter ability that they outgrew as they matured. When she had said kid, maybe she had meant kid? He eyed Robert and Sarah with more interest. “Little humans can shift into young goats?”

“I walked down to the village with five Sceltie puppies. I came back to the Hall with four.” “And the fifth ?” “By now, I’m sure Sylvia has convinced the little bitch to let go of Mikal’s trousers. And Mrs Beale promised to send her recipe for puppy biscuits to Sylvia’s cook.” “Mrs Beale agreed to share a recipe,” Saetan said slowly. “Mrs Beale agreed that I could pay for... I’m not sure what it is except that it’s something she wanted for the kitchen but couldn’t justify as a normal household expense.” “And you agreed to fund this in exchange for a recipe ?” Daemon stared at his father for a long moment before he muttered, “She sharpened the meat cleaver before coming to talk to me.” One beat of silence. Two. Then Saetan burst out laughing.”

“She looked at him. Then she looked at the table stacked with books. Her lips curved in a wicked smile. “If you want us to keep pretending that you’re sorting old books whenever we come by to chat, you shouldn’t slam them on the table. We all know you wouldn’t do that to a book that was truly ancient and fragile.” He closed his eyes and promised himself that he would not whimper. “You all know ?” “Well, I don’t think any of the boyos have figured it out, but all of the coven knows.” May the Darkness have mercy on me. “Come on, Papa. Let’s go bwaa ha ha.”