Jennifer Silverwood

He pushed his way between them with his burly frame and forced her to stand in the cold with him. He flipped the long, silver dagger so its worn handle faced her. "Take your claw, pup," he growled. This was called White Fang, a blade almost as legendary as the hunter who owned it. It has been long told in the village that as a youth, Wolfsbane had destroyed an entire pack on his own, thus earning his name.

It would be nice to report she lived happily ever after till the end of her days. But such cheap, cop-out one-liners belong to other uncomplicated fairy tales.

If Emrys was acting normally, like the typical self-gratifying narcissist he was, then it would have been easier to keep him in that special category of potential enemy.

I already feel like the Girl Who Lived around here.

Amie frowned. 'That__ what I can__ figure out. I mean everyone wants their happy ending, right? No one cares about reading actual literature anymore anyway. All they want is vampires and supernatural mumbo-jumbo. It__ sick, really.

It be more a feeling. Something swirls out in the beyond, something unnatural. It__ the reason so few venture to these worlds. The black spaces are a part of it, pieces unraveling pulling apart. We__e come too far, waited too long to turn back now. Only death awaits us here.

There are moments in time when the axis of the universe shifts, when life as you knew it is irrevocably altered. When the hiss and grind of the gears fell silent, some deeply rooted instinctive part of me knew this was one of those moments.

Not as much as it bothers me that you just grabbed me without even trying to warn me first. If you__e trying to undo ages of prejudice, maybe you should start by acting civil.

Arvex led the others into the light. __recked if I ever dash miners again! This is one royal who won__ wipe their boots on our cousins anymore._ His grin made the carnage seem trivial.

Gem thought it would be hilarious to shear his brother__ fine hair off while he was sleeping. Ever since then Menai decided he actually preferred the Mohawk. Both had inherited their mother__ Western Continent coloring, a blend of pearly white and sea grass green that set their bold sea-colored eyes off handsomely. And since they had grown old enough to realize this, they had become a pair of pre-pubescent manipulating terrors.

Still, he couldn__ reconcile with the way he felt every time their eyes met, a feeling he had never forgotten that resonated with his very being.

Water matted his black hair into spikes and peppered his skin with a fresh sheen. If I shut my eyes I could still see the one who bound me, his smile bright as the white sun as he emerged from our latest dip in the sea. I fought the sudden urge to bury my face in his chest and run my fingers through that hair.

When we kissed, the skies had never appeared more heavenly, nor the seas a more brilliant shade of sapphire blue.