Lilith Saintcrow is an American author of urban fantasy, historical fantasy, paranormal romance and steampunk novels. Saintcrow was born in New Mexico. She currently resides in Vancouver, WA.
His smell—the scent of a demon, cinnamon incense, amber musk—wrapped around me, filled my lungs. I felt like I could breathe again, without every breath being tainted by the stench of dying cells. The smell of him seemed to coat my abused insides with peace, and flow down into the middle of my body to spread through my veins. I filled my lungs again. While I could, before what was undoubtedly a hallucination vanished.
First you find out what you have, Dad would say. Then you figure out how to make it work for what you need, 'cause you don't get what you want. You get just what you have and no more.
What you cannot escape, you must fight; what you cannot fight, you must endure.
Can I…I mean, do you mind if I sleep up here? If you don't, I, um, understand. I just—" "Yes. " The word bolted out of me. "Yes, please. Maybe I'll be able to sleep if you're here.
He'd pulled back a little, just with his lower half, and I was afraid the scorch in my cheeks would set fire to the rest of me, because I an idea why. Wow. Oh wow.
It was stealing her breath, imbecile. Go get a towel. " -Christophe, Strange Angels by Lili St. Crow
If something is visceral and unsettling for me, my job is to not look away, not to punk out. Sometimes the dark things come from places inside me, experiences Ive had, that need to be transformed.
Well, duh. You're cuter than she is. " He said it like he might say, Grass is green or, Gravity works. Something warm opened up inside my chest. It was a nice feeling.
I caught the look Benjamin gave me. "What?" "Nothing. We just thought a svetocha would be more, well, difficult. " Leon's mouth twitched. "I do seriously want a slushie. " I tried a tentative smile. I definitely liked him now. "I haven't had one in ages. Maybe the guys outside—the double blonds—would want one, too?" For some reason Leon found that utterly fricking hysterical. He snorted and chuckled all the way through Housewares to the Health and Beauty section, and even Benjamin unbent enough to grin.
Touch me again, and it will be your last act in life - Blue Eyes.
His eyebrows drew together. He was perilously close to unibrow; I guess nobody had held him down and administered a good plucking to the caterpillar climbing across his forehead.
He was the only boy I'd found worth dating in God knows how many schools. I mean, ever since he'd been bitten by a werwulf he'd been rock-steady. The best thing about this totally effed-up situation.
Really, I scolded myself, you should have known that you'd end up in a stone dungeon with no facilities. That's how these things always end up, isn't it?
Boys always get the best eyelashes; it's like some kind of cosmic law. And half-breed kids get some kind of extra help there from genetics, too.
I don't believe in getting clothes that just look pretty or that'll fall apart—they have to stand up to a lot of abuse.
"So you're a dom, huh? Nice. " I stabbed my pancakes again. "Kinky. " "You're the one who ties people up, babe. "
Are you listening, little bird?
The smell of apple pies didn't quite fill the house, but it was there, a thread under everything else. It was kind of hard to take Christophe seriously when he smelled like baked goods. I wondered if other djampjir smelled like Hostess Twinkies and sniggered to myself.
Oh God, Oh God we’re all gonna die doesn’t really fit the definition of banter, now does it?
I pulled in a soft breath. My lungs were starving, crying out for air. I lay still, and a cough tickled at the back of my throat. It always happens when you're hiding, a cough, a sneeze, something. It's stupid. The body decides to screw around with you, even though it knows being quiet is the only way it's going to go on living.