欧宝娱乐

“Her uneasy gaze skittered along the length of his arms, which were exposed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves... and stopped at the astonishing sight of a design that had been inked onto his right forearm. It was a small black horse with wings.
Noticing her mesmerized stare, Rohan lowered his arm to give her a better view. "An Irish symbol," he murmured. "A nightmare horse, called a pooka."
The absurd-sounding word brought a faint smile to Daisy's lips. "Does it wash off?" she asked hesitantly.
He shook his head, his lashes half lowering over his remarkable eyes.
"Is a pooka like the Pegasus of the Greek myths?" Daisy asked, flattening herself as close to the wall as possible.
Rohan glanced down her body, taking a kind of leisurely inventory that no man ever had before. "No. He's far more dangerous. He has eyes of yellow fire, a stride that clears mountains, and he speaks in a human voice as deep as a cave. At midnight, he may stop in front of your house and call out your name if he wants to take you for a ride. If you go with him, he'll fly you across earth and oceans... and if you ever return, your life will never be the same.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Reaching the brow of a stunted hill, Amelia paused in bewilderment at the sight of a towering contraption made of metal. It appeared to be a chute propped up on legs, tilted at a steep angle.
Her attention was caught by a minor commotion farther afield 鈥� two men emerging from behind a small wooden shelter 鈥� they were shouting and waving their arms at her.
Amelia instantly realized she had stumbled into danger, even before she saw the smoldering trail of sparks move, snakelike, along the ground toward the metal chute.
A fuse?
Although she didn鈥檛 know much about explosive devices, she was aware that once a fuse had been lit, nothing could be done to stop it. Dropping to the sun-warmed grass, Amelia covered her head with her arms, having every expectation of being blown to bits. A few heartbeats passed, and she let out a startled cry as she felt a large, heavy body fall on hers 鈥� no, not fall, pounce. He covered her completely, his knees digging into the ground on either side of her as he made a shelter of his body.
At the same moment, a deafening explosion pierced the air, and there was a violent whoosh over their heads, and a shock went through the ground beneath them. Too stunned to move, Amelia tried to gather her wits. Her ears were filled with a high-pitched buzz.
Her companion remained motionless over her, breathing heavily in her hair. The air was sharp with smoke, but even so, Amelia was aware of a pleasant masculine scent, skin-salt and soap and an intimate spice she couldn鈥檛 quite identify. The noise in her ears faded. Raising up on her elbows, feeling the solid wall of his chest against her back, she saw shirtsleeves rolled up over forearms cabled with muscle 鈥� and there was something else 鈥�
Her eyes widened at the sight of a small, stylized design inked on his arm. A tattoo of a black winged horse with eyes the color of brimstone. It was an Irish design, of a nightmare horse called a pooka: a malevolent mythical creature that spoke in a human voice and carried people away at midnight.
Her heart stopped as she saw the heavy rounded band of a thumb ring.
Wriggling beneath him, Amelia tried to turn over.
The strong hand curved around her shoulder, helping her. His voice was low and familiar. 鈥淎re you hurt? I鈥檓 sorry. You were in the way of鈥斺€�
He stopped as Amelia rolled to her back. The front of her hair had come loose, pulled free of a strategically anchored pin. The lock fanned over her face, obscuring her vision. Before she could reach up to push it away, he did it for her, and the brush of his fingertips sent ripples of liquid fire along intimate pathways of her body.
鈥渊辞耻,鈥� he said softly.
Cam Rohan.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight

“They went out the back of the house to the great stone terrace, its wide curving steps leading down to the gardens. The moonlight was crossed with shredded clouds that glowed against a sky the color of black plums. Puzzled but willing, Amelia went with Cam to the bottom of the steps.
He stopped and gave a short whistle.
"What-" Amelia gasped as she heard the pounding of heavy hooves and saw a huge black form rushing toward them like something from a nightmare. Alarm darted through her, and she burrowed against Cam, her face hidden against his chest. His arm went around her, tucking her close.
When the thundering stopped, Amelia risked a glance at the apparition. It was a horse. A huge black horse, with puffing breaths that rose like wraiths in the raw air.
"Is this really happening?" she asked.
Cam reached in his pocket and fed the horse a sugar lump, and ran his hand over the sleek midnight neck. "Have you ever had a dream like this?"
"Never."
"Then it must be happening."
"You actually have a horse who comes when you whistle?"
"Yes, I trained him."
"What is his name?"
His smile gleamed white in the darkness. "Can't you guess?"
Amelia thought for a moment. "Pooka?" The horse turned his head to look at her as if he understood. "Pooka," she repeated with a faint smile. "Do you have wings, by any chance?"
At Cam's subtle gesture, the horse shook his head in an emphatic no, and Amelia laughed shakily.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight

“You sure that鈥檚 a dog, sir? Looks like an illegal immigrant pooka to me”
― Angel Martinez, Finn