He’s close enough now that I can hear his footfall on the pavement, and I know my chances of outrunning him are slim. I’m practically in a full sprint, and my pounding heart is begging me to take it down a notch. I try to will my feet to keep pace with its beat; but I think it’s humanly impossible to run that fast. And then it dawns on me that my footsteps are the only ones I hear. Somewhere along the way, Tristan’s must have come to a stop. And I can’t quite explain why I’m running this fast in the first place. I slow to a jog, intending to just pick up with my original pace; but I can’t seem to suck in breaths fast enough to propel my feet any further. My molten shoes stutter to a stop, as my hands come to rest on my knees. I’m still wheezily sucking in breath after breath of thick, humid air, when I warily turn to look over my shoulder. Tristan’s standing about fifty feet back, hands on his hips and a comp

— M.A. George

I can finish that off and get you something better,” he offered.“You’d eat my leftovers?...” I felt like such a prima donna. “You’re a king.”“I’m a…hungry…king,” he shrugged, as he unassumingly glanced to the side. “I’m not picky.

— M.A. George

I can only imagine what goes on in that head of yours…” he teased. “I assure you I haven’t taken up black magic, ritualistic sacrifice, or—”“Plushophilia?” I tagged on.“Excuse me?…” came his half-confused, half-intrigued reaction.”An obsession with stuffed animals,” I clarified. “I mean, you are a young one…”“Where did you come up with that?” He kept his hands firmly covering my eyes, but I could hear the amused smile in his voice. “Is that even a real word?”“I’m a doctor, I know these things,” I shrugged.

— M.A. George

I decided that a movie marathon was clearly in order. I tried to narrow down the options. Anything romantic was definitely out, as was anything involving space travel, kings, or handsome princes. Preferably there should be no good-looking men whatsoever, lest they remind me of Aaron. Sadly, that eliminated practically everything.

— M.A. George

I didn’t intend it to come out sarcastically, but I guess that’s just where my tone of voice automatically goes these days.

— M.A. George

If by ‘foe’ you mean a brutal killer, then I suppose I’d fall into the ‘friend’ category,” I replied cynically. “Although in your case, we may have to find a secret option number three.

— M.A. George

I missed her smile…the way she would roll her eyes when she thought I was being ridiculous…the quiet way she almost tiptoed when she walked that gave her away as a ballerina…the fact that she could probably give me a fairly decent ass-kicking if she set her mind to it. I missed it all. I missed her.

— M.A. George

I’m not familiar with this word you were repeating before…‘cojones’, was it?” I blushed as Dominick patted me on the back. “Way to introduce him to the vernacular, Malta.

— M.A. George

I paused for a moment, debating whether to turn and look what was happening. My senses told me OBO’s presence was still at my side, and turning my face into the barrel of a gun seemed like an ill-advised way to cap off this day of monumentally stupid decisions.

— M.A. George

I tried not to think of all the horror movies featuring this exact scenario, soon to be followed by an abundance of gratuitous blood and gore.

— M.A. George