I Hope This Means You'll

Identity Was Partly Heritage, Partly Upbringing, But Mostly The Choices You Make In Life. ~ Bran

A Cowboy, A Lawyer, And A Mechanic Watched Queen Of The Damned,” I Murmured. Warren—who Had Once, A Long Time Ago, Been A Cowboy—snickered And Wiggled His Bare Feet. “it Could Be The Beginning Of Either A Bad Joke Or A Horror Story.” “no,” Said Kyle, The Lawyer, Whose Head Was Propped Up On My Thigh. “if You Want A Horror Story, You Have To Start Out With A Werewolf, His Gorgeous Lover, And A Walker.

She Crawled On Top Of Him, Naked And Warm And Soft, Smelling Like A Miracle That Had Saved Him From A Lifetime Of Aloneness.

Never Accept The Blame For What Evil People Do. We Are All Responsible For Our Own Actions." She Was Lecturing Him, So She Stopped. "sorry. Hang Around With Bran Too Long, And See If You Don’t Start Passing Around The Marrok’s Advice As If He Were Confucius.

We’d Spent Years As Adversaries, Two Predators Sharing Territory And A Certain, Unwelcome Attraction. Somehow, During All Those Years I Spent Outwardly Acquiescing To His Demands While Making Sure I Held My Own, I’d Won His Respect. I’d Had Werewolves Love Me And Hate Me, But I’d Never Had One Respect Me Before. Not Even Samuel. Adam Respected Me Enough To Act On My Suspicions. It Meant A Lot.