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“I drank some too-hot coffee and scowled at him, annoyed although I couldn't remember why. The light from the lounge was leaking in, highlighting his spiky blond hair. I decided that must be it.
"You really hate my hair, don't you?" he asked, a smile flickering over his lips so fast I might have imagined it.
"Yeah"
"Why?"
I reached out to touch it, and was surprised as always to find it mostly soft. Just a little stiff in places from whatever product he used on it. It felt weird, imagining Pritkin having anything in his hair but sweat. But he must have; nobody's did that all on its own.
"It's like...angry hair," I said, trying to pat it down and failing miserably.
He caught my wrist. "Most people would say that suits me."
"I'm not most people."
"I know.”
― Karen Chance, Hunt the Moon

“I couldn’t see Pritkin’s face very well, just a pale blur against the shadows, but he didn’t sound happy. Some people thought he had only one mode... pissed off. In reality, he had plenty of them. Over the past few weeks, I’d learned to tell the difference between real pissed off, impatient pissed off and scared pissed off. I suspected that this was the last kind. If so, that made two of us.”
― Karen Chance, Embrace the Night

“My new 9mm didn’t fit my hand as well as my old one, but it was rapidly becoming a familiar weight. At first I’d decided it was okay to wear as long as I shot only at supernatural bad guys who were already shooting at me. Lately, I’d had to broaden that definition to anytime my life was in danger. I was currently leaning toward a slightly more comprehensive rule somewhere between proactive self-defense and the-bastards-had-it-coming, which, if I survived long enough, I intended to blame on my deranged partner rubbing off on me.”
― Karen Chance, Embrace the Night

“And then Mircea finally let me down, only to get his hands inside the coat and push me against the wall.
“I’m dirty,� I protested.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Promise?�
“Mircea!â€� I laughed in spite of myselfâ€�”
― Karen Chance, Hunt the Moon

“There was some sort of commotion going on outside, and I decided I’d had enough. I went to the door and stuck my head out. Marco was gasping for breath on the sofa, and two of the guards were bent over a cell phone.
“What are you doing?� I demanded.
“Trying to record this,� the smart-ass from the shopping trip told me. “Nobody is going to believe us otherwise.�
“Well, cut it out. It isn’t funny!�
“On what planet?�
I glared at him, which did no good,because he simply went back to to tinkering with the phone. So I looked at Marco. “Can’t you do anything with them?�
Marco flopped a hand at me, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, and tried to say something. But all that came out for several moments were asthmatic wheezes. I bent over his prone form, starting to worry about him, and he put a hand on my neck and pulled me down.
â€� It…is…funny,â€� he gasped.”
― Karen Chance, Hunt the Moon

“Take them off!â€� I told him, grabbing the front of his jeans. “Take everything off!â€�

“I’m trying!�

“Try harder!”
― Karen Chance, Tempt the Stars

“Pritkin, it’s a hotel room, not a death trap!â€� A glance over his shoulder showed him impatient blue eyes under a fall of messy blond curls. “Anyway, you’re here.â€�
“I can’t protect you from everything,� he forced himself to say, because it was true. It was also frankly terrifying in a way that his own mortality was not. He’d never had children, but he sometimes wondered if this was how parents felt when catching sight of a fearless toddler confidently heading toward a busy street. Not that his charge was a child, as he was all too uncomfortably aware. But the knowledge of just how many potentially lethal pitfalls lay in her path sometimes caused him that same heart-clenching terror.
And the same overwhelming need to throw her over his lap and spank the living daylights out of her, he thought grimly, when she suddenly popped out of existence. “Cassie!”
― Karen Chance, A Family Affair