Cassandra Palmer may be the all-powerful Pythia now, but that doesn’t mean people have stopped trying to kill her. Most of the supernatural power players don’t want the independent minded Cassie as chief clairvoyant—and they’ll stop at nothing to see her six feet under.
The Vampire... read more
Cassie Palmer's in trouble. Again. She doesn't have much of a clue as to how to use her power and desperately needs training, as nearly everyone and their brother is out to kill her for their own reasons. The Black Circle wants her dead because they are allied with Apollo. The White Circle... read more (warning: may contain spoilers)
Cassie Palmer's in trouble. Again. She doesn't have much of a clue as to how to use her power and desperately needs training, as nearly everyone and their brother is out to kill her for their own reasons. The Black Circle wants her dead because they are allied with Apollo. The White Circle wants her dead because they can't control her. Apollo wants her dead because she doesn't come to heel very well - or at all. Her old nemesis, the vampire Tony, STILL wants her dead. There's a whole dead theme going on and Cassie's starting to get a complex about it.
Keeping her alive is a full time job, one that's determined to give her Vampire lover, Mircea, and her mage protector John Pritkin, massive coronaries - if THEY live through the attempts themselves.
“I Took The Road Less Traveled. Now Where The Heck Am I?”Cassie Palmer's t-shirt in the first couple of chapters in the book.
“He screamed and shot out of the hedge of barrels like he was on fire. He sprinted past me, shedding sparks in his wake and - Oh, crap. "He's on fire!"”Cassie Palmer
“"You shaved my legs?!"”Pritkin addressing Cassie furiously
he had the social skills of a wet cat and the patience of a caffeinated hummingbird.Highlighted by 27 Kindle customers
It didn’t matter what my heart said, I reminded myself. My heart told me stupid stuff all the time. My heart should just shut the hell up.Highlighted by 18 Kindle customers
For someone who could hear a pin drop three rooms away, Mircea could be amazingly deaf.Highlighted by 14 Kindle customers
“I’m trying to remember all the reasons you are indispensable and can’t be killed slowly and painfully.”Highlighted by 13 Kindle customers
My usual post-almost-dying routine—and, God, there was an actual routine—mostly involved getting yelled at by Priktin and then going to get a sandwich. And a bath. And some aspirin.Highlighted by 13 Kindle customers
We were obviously going to have to have a talk about the difference between “maintaining security” and “being a dick.”Highlighted by 12 Kindle customers
“Dulceaţă,” Mircea said quietly, using the pet name he’d given me as a child, meaning “dear one.”Highlighted by 11 Kindle customers
I was wearing jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt that said “I Took the Road Less Traveled. Now Where the Heck Am I?”Highlighted by 10 Kindle customers
The work-outs that Pritkin called “a decent warm-up” and I called “evidence that you’ve gone crazy, oh my God, I’m having a coronary” had actually paid off. Despite the fact that that had been the point, it was a shock.Highlighted by 10 Kindle customers
Mircea Basarab had been born a nobleman in fifteenth-century Romania, when one’s woman was almost as prized a possession as one’s horse. They were also treated about the same: dressed up and shown off on important occasions, and petted and pampered and kept under careful watch the rest of the time. And although he had since modernized his wardrobe, his vocabulary and his job description, his attitude toward women was remarkably constant.Highlighted by 8 Kindle customers
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