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Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“Irritation pricked at my skin, causing the glyphs to agitate restlessly across it. Apollo and I had a history—a very bad history. He couldn’t kill me. I wasn’t sure how any of the Olympian gods could kill me, but I knew they would, eventually. Just not yet— they still needed me. “What do you want?” He tilted his head to the side. “One of these days you will speak to me with respect, Apollyon.” “One of these days you will realize I don’t respect you.” A tight smile appeared on the god’s lips, a hide-your-kids-and-loved-ones kind of smile, but since I had neither of those things, I wasn’t intimidated. “We need to chat.”

Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

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The Return

This book delves into the emotional journey of returning to one's past, examining the impact of change and the complexities of identity. more

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Jennifer L. Armentrout

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“What do we need to talk about?” I ground out, folding my arms to keep myself from hitting him with a blast of akasha, the fifth and most powerful element only the gods and the Apollyon could wield. It wouldn’t kill him, but sure as hell would sting like a bitch. Apollo shifted his gaze to the dark ocean. “Do you have to always be so messy?” My brows rose. “Huh?” “Back there,” he said, jerking his chin to where the lights from the mansion twinkled in the distance. “Do you always have to be so messy when you dispatch those who betrayed us?” “Do I have to? No.” “Then why?” He looked at me. Killing them the way I did was unnecessary. I could just blast them into nothing, make it quick, neat, and painless, but that’s not how I rolled. Maybe in the beginning I’d been less…violent, but not anymore. Not when my sole purpose of existence was carrying out the gods’ dirty work. Because every time I saw one of their faces, I thought of my own major screw-ups, and they were plentiful, and that made me think of— I cut that thought off. I was so not going down that road tonight without a bottle of whiskey. “You all turned me into the Terminator. What did you expect?” I shrugged. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? My method of carrying out your orders? I’d think you’d have better things to do than pop up just to bitch at me because I made a mess.” “It’s not just making a mess, Seth, and you know that. It’s you.”

“That’s when Eena cut in. Both Ravelly and Unan looked to her as she announced, “My favorite part of the book is at the very end.” “Where Imorih battles the three-headed dragon,” Unan presumed. Eena shook her head. “Nope.” “Afterwards, where Imorih befriends the beast and earns his trust,” Ravelly guessed. Eena shook her head again. “No, sir. I mean the very end.” Unan’s brow crinkled as he tried to recall what came next in the story. “Where she finds her prince who was held captive by none other than the same three-headed dragon?” The young Sha shook her head a third time. “I know! When the dragon flies them on his back to the edge of their homeland! That would be quite the experience, wouldn’t it?” Ravelly seemed certain he had guessed the finishing act of the story. “That’s not the very, very end,” Eena grinned. “But that’s the last page,” Unan contended, his finger pointing at the final leaf in the book. Wahlister was the one who finally guessed the correct answer. “They kiss on the dragon’s back at the very end. That’s where they promise to never allow anything, even death, to separate them again.” “Yes!” Eena chirped. “That’s the best scene of all.” “I don’t recall that promise,” Ravelly admitted. Unan assured the old Grott, “It’s right here.” He read the line that told of a promise made sure by a kiss. “Their lips sealed the whispered vow, ‘We shall never part again, even if our fate is to haunt one another in death.’” After reading it, he groaned aloud. “Only a woman would remember that line.”

“Myrnin blinked, looked at Eve, and smiled. It was his seductive smile, and it came with a lowering of his thick eyelashes. “Sweet lady,” he said, “could you get me one of those delicious drinks you prepared for my friend, here?” He gracefully indicated Oliver, who remembered the cup of blood still sitting in front of him, and angrily choked it down. “Perhaps warm the bag a bit in hot water first? It’s a bit disgusting, cold.” “Yeah, sure,” Eve sighed. “Want a shot of espresso with that?” Myrnin seemed to be honestly considering it. Claire urgently shook her head no. The last thing she—any of them—needed just now was Myrnin on caffeine.”