1
" They came to the door of the ladies’ club and Ash reached for the handle. Before he could touch it, the door flew open and Lyre fell out, still dressed in the white waiter “uniform” and his arms full of his clothes and weapons. Shouts burst from the building’s interior.
“There you are!” Lyre blurted, wild-eyed. “Time to go.”
“What happened?” Ash barked.
Clio was still gawking when Lyre launched down the alley, leaving her and Ash to rush after him.
“Some women react poorly to rejection,” Lyre explained breathlessly. “Especially when they’ve paid a lot of money to not be rejected.”
“You blew your cover by rejecting her?” Ash snapped.
They fled down several alleys before Lyre skidded to a stop and whirled on Ash, still clutching his belongings.
“I’ll dress up in stupid costumes,” the incubus snarled with unexpected temper, “and I’ll pretend to be a paid whore, and I’ll even let a crucial informant pinch and paw at me.” He thrust an accusatory finger at Ash. “But I will not allow that nasty old hag’s tongue anywhere near me, not even to save the damn world!”
Ash blinked.
Scowling blackly, Lyre shoved his armload at Ash, then pulled a dagger from the pile and cut his leather-strap top off. “Next time, you can do the nasty stuff and I’ll kill people. "
― Annette Marie , The Blood Curse (Spell Weaver, #3)
4
" Lyre advanced. “Aphrodesia isn’t just blasting an enemy and leaving them frozen and slack-jawed. That’s like saying you can only use your magic to blow shit up and nothing in between.”
“I don’t know what …” Ash trailed off as he withdrew another step. His back bumped into the wall.
“Aphrodesia works best in low, subtle doses,” Lyre crooned. “It can be used to charm, to placate, to confuse, to disarm … or even to make you very … very … suggestible.”
He leaned in, bringing his face within inches of Ash’s.
“What do you think, Ash?” he whispered. “Do you want me to touch you?”
The draconian’s eyes widened but he didn’t move. Lyre pressed both hands to Ash’s stomach and he jumped at the contact. But, trapped against the wall, he had nowhere to retreat. Lyre slid his hands slowly upward, dragging Ash’s shirt up.
“What do you think?” he purred softly. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
Ash’s breath caught. "
― Annette Marie , The Blood Curse (Spell Weaver, #3)
10
" The huge black dragon, only a few paces away, growled softly. Dark fire erupted over its body, engulfing its form so suddenly that Lyre jumped. The flames leaped upward, then died away as fast as they had appeared. With a final poof, they were gone.
And in the black dragon’s place, a little dragonet stood.
Chattering cheerfully, she jumped onto Ash’s back and climbed up to his shoulder. The draconian dragged the unresisting nymph back
toward Lyre, and he blinked stupidly when he saw Ash had cast a sleep spell on the daemon.
“Um.” Lyre cleared his throat. “Your dragonet can … shapeshift?”
“Clearly. "
― Annette Marie , The Blood Curse (Spell Weaver, #3)
