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Quote by Paula Stokes

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Stronger Than Words

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Paula Stokes

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“He pointed a clawed finger at me. “That one is mine.” “Sorry, I’m already taken.” I swung the crossbow up and aimed it, earning a laugh from him. He bared his fangs at me. “You took me by surprise the first time. Do you really think you can hit me in the heart with that thing before I get to –?” Trevor let out an earsplitting shriek and doubled over, clutching at the arrow protruding from his smoking crotch. “I wasn’t aiming for your heart.” Jordan whistled. “Damn, girl, you do have an evil streak after all.” “If he can’t walk, he can’t attack.”

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“Rannik had drudged past the salvager's stall, took one look at her, and purchased her. And thank goodness for that bit of luck. Lassies were used as sexbots. Roughly used. . . . Her cheeks flamed as she recalled that awkward encounter. He, a rambunctious youth, had wanted to check under her carriage. She, a rampaging bitch, had slapped some decency into him. Now they got along smashingly. Just an average teenage boy with his secret alien companion.”

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Book:Thanemonger
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“£500.” He hisses furiously at me. “I can’t believe I’ve spent £500 on an entire new wardrobe and a new haircut – one that I didn’t even want my I add!” As he talks, I skip happily, a dreamy smile plastered all over my face. I’ve had, without a shadow of a doubt, the best day ever. “I can.” I answer, my voice rising several decibels, as I lose myself, currently, on cloud nine. “I’ve loved spending your money. It feels awesome!”

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Book:Damned
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“Clenching my fists, his subsequent snore emphasises my suspicions. He has been sleeping on the job. I put my hands on my hips and glide over to him. I have one intent in mind. Picking up the book next to his elbow, I slam it down on the table. There are definitely some perks to being able to manipulate objects. Adam’s reaction is priceless. “W…w….what? W…where? W…why?” He stammers, blinking frantically. One hand flies to his heart, which he clutches dramatically and he raises his other to his forehead, wiping his brow. When he realises who has disturbed him and what I have done, he scowls at me. “Why did you do that?” He snaps, rubbing his eyes. He yawns at the end, meaning that I definitely can’t take him seriously. “I was enjoying that dream.” At hearing his answer, I roll my eyes. Part of me is tempted to interrogate him, to find what he was dreaming about exactly. The other rational and sensible part wins, meaning that I thrust the book in his direction, winding him considerably. He throws me a sharp glare, which ends in a grimace. The book juts sharply into his ribs. “You should be reading NOT sleeping!” I retort, making sure that the book digs harder into his chest. I give it one last push. “So get going.”

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Book:Damned
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