Cyn Quotes

Do you think my Cyn would like a souvenir?" he asked Duncan. Duncan leaned sideways to study the dripping organ. "probably not, My lord.

Cyn? Short for Cynric? (Callie) Nay. S-I-N. As in conceived, born in, and am currently living happily in. (Sin)

Cyn stopped, drawing a deep breath. "Will you answer the fucking question or not? There's more at stake here than Raphael's Dick" Duncan choked back a laugh.

Did you ever find it?" Cyn asked. "What's that?" "Something he wouldn't give you?" "You know, Cynthia, I did. Very recently,in fact. "What was it?" "You

I have been mastered at last, sweet Cyn, helpless in the face of that most human of failings, I love you.

Oh, hell, he'd look hot in a chicken suit.

Would it be so terrible, sweet Cyn?” he whispered. “To spend eternity at my side?” But she was too far gone in sleep, and Raphael didn't know if he wanted to hear her answer anyway.

It's all in the past. Leave it there.

I'm not just one flavor. You're not either. So it all comes down to which 'you' you want to show the world.

Cyn like Cynric ?No, S-I-N as in conceived in , born in and lived in

Raphael have kids? NO Does Cyn have kids? NO Will Raphael allow Cyn to have kids with someone else? Are you out of your mind?

Hero­ism breaks its heart, and ide­al­ism its back, on the intran­si­gence of the cred­u­lous and the mediocre, manip­u­lated by the cyn­i­cal and the corrupt.

Cyn stepped up and grasped his sweater in her fist, pulling his face down to hers. “I love you more than life, Raphael. But I won’t be dismissed like some piece of fluff whenever it’s convenient.

I trust you. But I'm also going with you." "Of course you are. Because, my Cyn, if the shit hits the fan--" "When the shit hits the fan." "--I trust you to be there to turn the damn fan off.

Raphael stripped off the robe and showered quickly. Normally he wouldn't have bothered since he intended to bathe in his enemy's blood before the night was over. But he was covered in Cyn's Blood and she was his. Her BLOOD was his, and no one else's. So he let the soap and water sluice over his body, and he swore privately that the blood of those who harmed his Cyn would run like water tonight.

What is it about her, Duncan?” he said finally. “She fights me at every turn, then nearly dies defending me. She comes more than willingly to my bed, then runs the very next morning. She wants nothing to do with me, and yet I find her... fascinating.

My experience with tragedy is that people will offer condolences and support but never be around when you want to collect.

It was almost as if my screwing everything up was beyond my control, destined, written in the stars.

I don’t mean to offend, but . . . how did you die? I mean what happened that made Raphael turn you?” Duncan smiled at her. Cyn thought it was the only time she’d really seen him smile. “You’re very straightforward, Ms. Leighton. I admire that. As to your question, I was dying, struck down with so many others during the war.” He caught her eye. “That would be the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War I believe you call it.

I couldn’t get out of my head how strange it was that the smallest decisions in our lives can leave the biggest scars.

Twenty minutes later, I walk out of Melinda's hotel with a plate of finger sandwiches, a bag of prostitute clothes, and a weird wedge on my head that makes me look like you could tip me upside down and fill it with cream of mushroom. I need another donut.

What's with the strange clothes?" I smile through my labored breath, pleased to be making progress. "Where I'm from, you'd be the one dressed strangely." Thank goodness, she slows a bit. "And what planet is that again?" "Er. Canada.

It's all me. I'm not just one flavor. You're not, either. So it all comes down to which 'you' you want to show the world.

Glory, in the tattoo parlor, with the gun.

And besides, his Cyn was coming for him. Dear Mathilde was about to learn just how lethal one human female could be.

Human females are…” Cyn trailed off, drawing her attention to him. She cocked an eyebrow. “What?” “Fascinating.” A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. Good answer. -Cyn & Leilani

I trust you. But I’m also going with you.” “Of course you are. Because, my Cyn, if the shit hits the fan—” “When the shit hits the fan.” “—I trust you to be there to turn the damn fan off.

Hans and Christian just stare at me, faces grim. All I can think of is how awesome it would be if my name were Andersen.

Belki de Scott'ın Cyn'i seksi bulup Anna'yı bulmamasının sebebi Anna'nın kendisini seksi bulmamasıydı. Cyn gibi çılgın ve vahşi maceralar yaşayamamasının sebebi bunlara açık olmamasıydı. Korkunç gerçek, on sekizine yaklaşmasına rağmen Anna'nın kabuğunu kıramamış olmasıydı.

You do not get to say good-bye to me like this. You do not get to say good-bye at all. You promised me you would come back, and that does not mean I get your ashes in a fucking box, do you hear me? No one gets to kill you but me, and I swear, Raphael, I will stake you myself if you let them kill you." One corner of his sensuous mouth curved up in amusement at the illogical threat, and she growled, actually growled at him. Which only made him smile harder. "Perhaps I simply wanted to take comfort in the sweet and silky flesh of my mate before going into battle." Cyn gave him a doubtful look, but she smiled. "In that case, you have the wrong woman." Raphael wrapped both arms around her and rolled them again, putting him once more on top. "I have exactly the woman I want, lubimaya. There is no other.

I stare at Hans. Hans is shaped like an industrial-sized refrigerator. His hands are like cinder blocks. He should not be afraid of a little thing like the ocean.

Jared and Chris stood in black leather pants and nothing else.

Cyn always liked watching women move,but there was nothing sexier than an angry woman moving with purpose.

Fuck you, Cyn. I can’t take you anywhere.” “Maybe he was shooting at you!” she hissed.

I am ready to depart," Ken'ichi agreed, pushing away from the counter. Elke rolled her eyes at him, then looked at Cyn. "What he meant to say was, 'Hell, yeah, let's go fuck up a geek!

He handed his brother the drink and sat beside him. Drifts of snow skittered past the wall of glass in flurries. “How was the evening?” Cyn took a swig of his drink. “She’s not interested in any of them, so do not worry.” He automatically straightened. “I am not worried.” As the leader of the mountain clan, he was not concerned about a human female other than her capacity as his responsibility. “Hmm.” Con was silent for a long moment. “She is not?” “No.

I’m not short-tempered!” Cyn said, glowering at her batch brother. “Of course you’re not. You’re a shy, delicate flower. How could I forget?” Luke asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Hey, mind not riling up my nurse? I’m a wounded man in dire need of her healing touch,

Those who dare to speak to me directly call me Sin." She nodded. "Cyn? Short for Cynric?" "Nay," he said, recovering his stoicism as he remembered who and what he was. "S-I-N. As in conceived in, born in, and am currently living happily in." He felt her hand tremble for the first time. "You like to frighten people, don't you?" she asked. "Aye." "Why?" "Why not?" -Sin & Callie

And so you were in here, chatting with God?" Bruce stared at her face, studying her features in minute detail. His voice dropped to a soft, velvety whisper. "I wanted to thank Him for my many blessings." The burning of her eyes increased. She would not cry like some ninny just because Bruce was happy. He was a devout and wonderful person who always looked to the bright side. Knowing that prompted her to say, "You're such a good man, Bruce." "I'm a fortunate man, in many, many ways." He made a grand gesture toward the glass blocks. "It's a beautiful, sunny day, and my very own church is almost complete." "It is shaping up. Everyone will like it." His thumb moved to her bottom lip with a teasing, gentle touch. "Good friends surround me, and I enjoy good health." "All things you deserve." He smiled. "And I've been given the greatest gift of all." "What's that?" He laughed, tweaked her chin. "You." "Me?" He slowly nodded. "God's given me a lot. But best of all, He's given me you." He took her mouth in a long, toe-curling, stomach-tightening kiss, and in a husky rumble: "I'll be thinking Him every day for the rest of my life." -Bruce and Cyn

So, having at last met a foe I could not defeat, I fled,” he said in disgust. “Rather than face you in my weakness, I thought to leave you behind, to forget about you, which I thought was surely possible. After all, how could one human overwhelm me with feelings in such a short period of time?” He smiled bitterly, shaking his head at his own foolishness. “You told me once I haunted your dreams,” he said softly. “With you gone, I have lived for those moments stolen from your sleep. I wanted you to remember me so that no other man could touch you the way I had. The very possibility drove me mad. When I learned you’d gone to Texas, my first thought was to destroy Jabril Karim before his eyes could so much as look upon you, lest he even think to take you for his own.” A cloud covered the moon high above, hiding his face until only the silver gleam of his eyes was visible as he met her gaze. “I have been mastered at last, sweet Cyn, helpless in the face of that most human of failings. I love you.

Stop!” Leilani’s worried voice cut through the haze in his mind as he pinned Ruari face down on the stone entryway. He could have let the fight drag on, but the panic in her voice did something strange to him. He wanted to get up and soothe all her fears. But since he didn’t trust the male, or any male, around her, he kept a firm hold on Ruari as he stared at Leilani. And it was impossible not to. Her long, dark hair hung in a single braid draped over one shoulder and breast. The females on the mainland dressed differently than the few females who lived in the mountain clans. Her dress-style was no different than the other Luminet mainlanders he’d seen. The bright red shift dress she had on cinched right under her breasts, the V cut dipping low enough that he could see the soft upper swell of her breasts. Her skin tone was a deep bronze and her shoulders, which he’d never thought of as sexy before, were bare except for straps of gauzy material pinned by jewel-studded dragons. He wondered where she’d gotten the pins, if some male had given them to her. The thought made something dark and possessive flare inside him. The possessiveness took him off guard. That was when he realized Cyn and Brandt were both standing there staring at him, clearly wondering if he was going to let Ruari up. Leilani was watching him as well, but her expression was much harder to read. He thought he might have seen a trace of desire in her gaze yesterday when she looked at him but that was before he’d ordered her to give him her files. “I will let you up, but do not move toward her,” he growled at Ruari. When he stood he immediately moved between Leilani and the other male.

What the hell do you want, anyway?" 'I just want to help you." Yeah, right. And then he'd sell her a bridge. He didn't know her, had no vested intereset in her--unless he hoped to get laid. Ha! Fat chance. He looked like he was poor, driving that old rattrap car and dressed in faded jeans. She clenched her hands into fists. "I'm not screwing you." "I didn't ask you to." And then, with some sort of warped amusement, he added, "I'm not that easy.

When I feel comfortable enough that he is not going to trip me, I manage to look down, and see that his feet are gliding gracefully on the floor in his bloack loafers. He's even doing this very hot rhythmitic figure eight with his hips. Maybe it's the music that's growing on me, or it's that I'm giddy from not having had anything to eat except half a miniquiche, but after a moment or so, I start to move my hips, too. And suddenly, I'm breathless again, but in a good way. Once Pip gets into the groove, he stops looking at the instructor and his eyes fasten on me. So close like this, they're shocking in their brilliance, so light blue as to be almost white. Like silver medallions moving back and forth on a chain, they're hypnotizing. Where did they come from? I swear they weren't so beautiful a day ago, when we were sitting in the food court, talking about ewl and popping stag mints. " Where did you learn to do this?" I whisper in his ear, still unable to break from his gaze. " Faries love to dance. This is similar to one of theirs," he explains as he slows to near a stop. His eyes focous on Fit Lady again, and before I can ask what he's doing, he expertly glides his leg out from underneath his body, dragging his foot on the ground. " Yours should follow him," Fit Lady says, watching my legs. ...then I feel her hand on my leg, pulling it up into the air. I toddle about on one leg like a top that's about to fall, so Pip steadies me, and I hold on so tight to his arms with my sweaty hands as to cut off his circualtion. But he doesn't seem to mind. I watch as she grips my leg at the knee and pulls it, higher, higher … almost to Pip's hip level, then force me to extend and curve it around him. Ow, I am not a pretzel. " What are you doing?" " Gancho," she says. " Just take your leg up and wrap it around his body." " Wait. Wh- wh-at?" He's still staring at me with those amazing eyes as I push him away, falling back onto my elbows with a deafening crack.

He clipped the male again, this time in the shoulder, sending Einar flying backward. He was vaguely aware of Cyn racing to Leilani. He could hear her calling out his own name, but he tuned everything out, including her. Con couldn’t go to her yet. The threat needed to be eliminated. A red haze had descended across his vision as he body-slammed Einar, who was attempting to stand. That male wasn’t walking out of here. He knew he wasn’t acting rational, that the threat could be put down easier than this, but he couldn’t stop the rage that had overtaken him. Einar pumped a fist against Con’s ribcage as they tumbled to the ground. He barely felt it as he slammed a left hook across the male’s jaw. Didn’t feel anything as he jabbed him in the gut, the ribs, the face. Over and over. He felt a bloodlust overtake him as he pounded at Einar’s face. This male had wanted to hurt Leilani, to take her from Con. Strong arms wrapped around Con, tackling him to the ground and rolling him off his target. “Con!” Cyn held him tight, his eyes wild as he kept him pinned down. “It’s done. You’re scaring her.” Those words snapped him out of the dark fog of savagery that had overtaken him. Leilani stood a few feet away, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Fuck, he had scared her. “I’m fine,” he rasped to his brother. Cyn paused before loosening his grip. When he did, Con stood, terrified he’d screwed things up for good. He didn’t glance at Einar, who he was certain was dead. He’d never lost control like that, had never even come close. It pierced him that Leilani had seen him kill someone, that he literally had blood on his hands in front of her now. “Leilani—” She jumped at him, throwing her arms around his neck on a sob. “You came for me.” Unable to do anything about the blood, he wrapped his arms around her and held tight. Of course he’d come for her. There was nowhere she could go that he wouldn’t follow. That realization slammed into him as if someone had actually struck him. They’d known each other less than two weeks but she’d changed his world without even trying. He would give up his role of leader for her. The thought should have terrified him, but it didn’t. He buried his face against her neck, inhaled her sweet, arilod scent. “I’m not letting you go after the moon cycle.” She sniffled, her fingers gripping his shoulders tight. “Good because I’m not going anywhere,” she said as she pulled back. Her eyes were bright with tears as she looked at him. “I would move to the mainland for you.” She blinked once in surprise before her lips pulled up into a smile. “No. This is your home— my home now.” No, he realized, she was his home, but he simply nodded and crushed his mouth to hers.

Mother refuses to sell to a buyer who’ll “ruin it,” which also seems to include making it a normal bed-and-breakfast or house. Though it has quaint Gothic architecture and decor, the mannequin body parts in seemingly every closet, brownish fake bloodstains on the wallpaper, and nooses hanging from ceilings aren’t the kind of characteristics anyone wants to preserve.

One moment," Jo said, detaining her, "may I—may I kiss you once, Cyn? Once, and for the last time?" There were tears in Cyn's eyes. She bent her handsome head, their lips met, then, without a word, they went on together to join those who awaited them. And it was thus Fate decreed for these two. Love brings the most intense sorrows, the keenest joys of life. But there must always be some lives, into which comes only the sadness, and none of the bliss, of loving.

Building on the Pentagon’s anthrax simulation (1999) and the intelligence agency’s “Dark Winter” (2001), Atlantic Storm (2003, 2005), Global Mercury (2003), Schwartz’s “Lockstep” Scenario Document (2010), and MARS (2017), the Gates-funded SPARS scenario war-gamed a bioterrorist attack that precipitated a global coronavirus epidemic lasting from 2025 to 2028, culminating in coercive mass vaccination of the global population. And, as Gates had promised, the preparations were analogous to “preparing for war.”191 Under the code name “SPARS Pandemic,” Gates presided over a sinister summer school for globalists, spooks, and technocrats in Baltimore. The panelists role-played strategies for co-opting the world’s most influential political institutions, subverting democratic governance, and positioning themselves as unelected rulers of the emerging authoritarian regime. They practiced techniques for ruthlessly controlling dissent, expression, and movement, and degrading civil rights, autonomy, and sovereignty. The Gates simulation focused on deploying the usual psyops retinue of propaganda, surveillance, censorship, isolation, and political and social control to manage the pandemic. The official eighty-nine-page summary is a miracle of fortune-telling—an uncannily precise month-by-month prediction of the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic as it actually unfolded.192 Looked at another way, when it erupted five years later, the 2020 COVID-19 contagion faithfully followed the SPARS blueprint. Practically the only thing Gates and his planners got wrong was the year. Gates’s simulation instructs public health officials and other collaborators in the global vaccine cartel exactly what to expect and how to behave during the upcoming plague. Reading through the eighty-nine pages, it’s difficult not to interpret this stunningly prescient document as a planning, signaling, and training exercise for replacing democracy with a new regimen of militarized global medical tyranny. The scenario directs participants to deploy fear-driven propaganda narratives to induce mass psychosis and to direct the public toward unquestioning obedience to the emerging social and economic order. According to the scenario narrative, a so-called “SPARS” coronavirus ignites in the United States in January 2025 (the COVID-19 pandemic began in January 2020). As the WHO declares a global emergency, the federal government contracts a fictional firm that resembles Moderna. Consistent with Gates’s seeming preference for diabolical cognomens, the firm is dubbed “CynBio” (Sin-Bio) to develop an innovative vaccine using new “plug-and-play” technology. In the scenario, and now in real life, Federal health officials invoke the PREP Act to provide vaccine makers liability protection.

Only Phyl worried about me and, with a best friend’s concern, said, ‘Cyn, you’re too good for him, he’s not right for you. I don’t trust him.’ She was afraid that John wasn’t serious and would drop me when he got bored. I wouldn’t listen: I was far too besotted with John to give him up.

Regretting the past is like poking a pig. It feels like you’re doing something, but you’re not accomplishing anything worthwhile.” River stared at her. “I –I don’t think I understand.” “Me either. Why would anyone poke a pig?” Cyn asked. “Forget the pig. It means that being angry about the past won’t change anything, but it can distract you from doing something to make the present better.

One morning at breakfast he pointed out an article in the newspaper to me. It was about a Japanese artist, Yoko Ono, who had made a film that consisted of close-up shots of people’s bottoms. ‘Cyn, you’ve got to look at this. It must be a joke. Christ, what next? She can’t be serious!’ We laughed and shook our heads. ‘Mad,’ John said. ‘She must be off her rocker.’ I had to agree. We had no understanding at all of avant-garde art or conceptualism at that point and the newspaper went into the bin. We didn’t discuss Yoko Ono again until one night when we were lying in bed, reading, I asked John what his book was. It was called Grapefruit and looked very short. ‘Oh, something that weird artist woman sent me,’ he said.

The only person who came to see me was Paul. He arrived one sunny afternoon, bearing a red rose, and said, ‘I’m so sorry, Cyn, I don’t know what’s come over him. This isn’t right.’ On the way down to see us he had written a song for Julian. It began as ‘Hey Jules’ and later became ‘Hey Jude’, which sounded better. Ironically John thought it was about him when he first heard it. It went on to become one of the Beatles’ most successful singles ever, spending nine weeks at number one in the US and two weeks in the UK.

Jim and Cyn confided in me that they didn’t like what had happened to John. According to them, he seemed dominated by Yoko. She called him all the time and he was constantly concerned that he’d be in trouble with her. His nickname for her was ‘Mother’, and they said he seemed to have a love-hate relationship with her, unable to tear himself away, yet constantly angry and resentful towards her.

...with children, promises are pinky sworn solemn, and unbreakable. They mean something.

toilet. He didn’t trust Cyn. He caught her trying to do something with one of his used condoms one time.

Mother made sure her little kids were subjected to a strict routine. We were given a timetable which covered our every waking moment, copies of which were posted by our bedside, in the sitting room and in the kitchen. Story hour meant that mother would read us novels and short stories by Guy de Maupassant, Oscar Wilde and Edmondo de Amicis. Soon we graduated to Tolstoy, Gogol and Turgenev. She read them to us in Chinese and I never realised until much later that the writers wrote them in different European languages. Comics were absolutely forbidden and so were Enid Blyton adventures and pop music. . .Lee Cyn and I soon went to a primary school nearby. . .After mother’s rigorous timetable, school became fun and easy-going.

Think of the world as you know it as a bag filled with sand, and the belief that that bag was created by Argon and Felina being just one grain. Our world is much older than that. Each grain of sand in the bag goes back many cyns ago, and each grain, or maybe two, being another idea or belief of how the world was created.

He looked up, his gaze meeting hers. “But what about us?” She opened the front door. “When you’re sucking Briant’s cock, call me. I’ll throw a party signifying the fact you’ve grown up.” Cyn to Kaden, Sweet Science, Hard Love

Früher oder später werden wir alle lernen müssen, dass die Welt das eine oder andere über uns weiß. Das war im Übrigen schon immer so. Ich bin in einem echten Kaff in Sussex groß geworden. Jeder kannte jeden. Wusste, wer mit wem hinter der nächsten Brombeerhecke fremdging. Wer soff, wer krank oder impotent war oder ein Geschäft plante. Heute wohne ich eben im globalen Dorf." "Das alte Dorf war ein überschaubarer Kreis." "Aber er war nicht angenehmer. Und auch nicht gnädiger. Wehe, du hast nicht mitgespielt, warst am Sonntag nicht in der Kirche oder beim Feuerwehrfest oder im Elternrat der Schule. Anonymoität, Privatsphäre? Fehlanzeige. Ein Außenseiter hat kein leichtes Leben im Dorf." "Aus dem Dorf kann man wegziehen. Stadtluft macht frei. Warum bist du in London?" "Weil man da draußen nur Schafhirte oder Alkoholiker werden kann?", fragt Anthony. "Oder beides?" "Aus dem globalen Dorf kann man nicht wegziehen." "Willst du das denn?" "Ich habe schon ganz gern einen Platz, an dem ich nicht gestört werde." "Ich habe nichts zu verbergen", meint Anthony jovial. "Wie langweilig!", erwidert Cyn und amüsiert sich über Anthonys verdutze Miene. Chander im Nebensitz grinst mit ihr. "Wie viel verdienst du eigentlich?", fragt sie. "Was hat das damit zu tun?", fragt Anthony zurück. "Wie viel verdienst du?" "Ich...ähm", druckst Anthony herum. "Na also, geht doch! Wie sieht dein bestes Stück aus?" "Ja, los, sag schon", lacht Chander. "Ich weiß, worauf du hinaus willst"; lächelt Anthny nachsichtig. "Dass wir alle unsere kleinen Geheimnisse brauchen.

All the Queen had to do was show up. Cyn and the rest of the staff at Hawthorne Manor had to worry about the rest. No pressure there, considering how exacting the Queen was about every detail down to the volume of the bumblebees' buzzing.

You better not bother the Chickcharnies while you're out here. Best to stay on their good side." The moonlight cast shadows on his face, but it was easy to see his teasing grin. She raised her eyebrows. "The Chickcharnies?" He pointed up into the palms and distant pines. "They're kind of like birds. They live up in the treetops --only on Andros Island and nowhere else in the world." Cyn scanned the darkness among the high branches. "What do you mean 'kind of like birds'?" He shrugged one shoulder. "Like owls. But they have three fingers, three toes, and they hang from the trees by their tails. You can spot their red eyes when they catch the light." Cyn clenched her teeth and squinted up into the trees, scanning for a pair of red eyes aimed her way. "They sound a little creepy." "If you see one, and you show it respect," Trent said, "you'll have good luck for the rest of your life." Cyn could use some good luck, for sure. She concentrated harder on finding those red eyes. None in sight, she furrowed her brow and set her gaze on Trent. "What do they do if you bother them?" His grin widened into that stop-your-heart smile that Cyn was finding harder to resist. "They turn your head around backward." "What?" "It's probably really painful," Trent said. Cyn swatted his arm, coming up against tight muscle. "You made that up." "Not really. It's island lore. People think the Chickcharnies descended from a big flightless owl they've found in fossils." "Have you ever seen one?" she asked skeptically. "Not yet. But you never know if one's around. I'd like to keep my head on straight, so I don't tease about them.".... Suddenly a huge screeching bird swooped down out of the trees, flew several feet over their heads, and veered up into a nearby copse of palms. Cyn yelped and ducked low. Trent pulled her close, tucking her against his chest. "Holy crap!" she said, "That was one pissed-off Chickcharnie. Hold on to your head.

A surprise isn't a surprise if you blow it ahead of time." She shook her head. "That sounds a lot like 'a wish won't come true unless you say it out loud.'" The words were out of her mouth before she could bit them back. The last thing she needed was for either of them to be thinking about their real-life kiss in this land of make-believe. With a hint of a grin, Trent lifted her chin with his fingers and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her lips. "And look how well that worked out for me." Cyn's heart surged, her pulse rushing like the water over the falls. Was he going to kiss her again? Trent pulled her close, anchoring her against him on the slippery rocks. He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupped the back of her neck, and kissed her lightly, tentatively. Cyn tensed a moment, then relaxed as she gave in and pressed her palms to his pecs, grasping handfuls of firm muscle. The camera was rolling, after all, but it wouldn't capture the sparks firing through her. She'd replayed the wish-upon-a-star kiss in her mind so many times, thinking how incredible it was with Trent - that elusive chemistry she hadn't found with anyone else. But as the weeks had passed, she'd wondered if she imagined it. This kiss made her believe that she hadn't. The softness of his lips. The sensual sweep of his tongue. The pressure of his hand at the small of her back. His skin was warm and wet against hers. She was nearly dizzy with sensation as he trailed light kisses along her jawline and whispered in her ear. "Even better than last time.

That a huge rush," Cyn said to him as she climbed out of the lagoon and wrung the water from her hair. "Not nearly as much as the one I'm getting looking at you in that bikini.

Ramirez! Speak.” Tony’s eyes shot straight to Brock’s, standing over Cyn. “She is my mate,” his rumble deepened, “and she purposely hid this knowledge from me.” He sat up and glared at Jane’s unmoving body. “How could she do that to her own mate?” “Tony,

And then I went back to face the future memories that had been flapping around in my mind like wounded birds.

We all used to be someone. It is who we choose to be now that matters most.

Yo, let her go. Chill, Cyn.” She grabbed his cup, tossed the contents in his face, and whirled around, ready to march off. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder so fast that my jaw dropped. Cyn was screaming bloody murder. Tripp smacked her ass.

Cyn’s eyes flew to Tripp. “I know you better make this ho get up!” Tripp calmly chewed on a straw. “She said she heard I'm not your man. Am I your man, Cyn Claire?

Father Cleary?” she asked as she approached the priest. His smile deepened the crinkles around his eyes. “And you must be Felicity Forrest. Ceád Milé Failté.” “Pardon?” “It means, ‘a hundred thousand welcomes.’” Cute. “Yes, I’m Felicity, and this is my friend Cynthia Becket.” “You can just call me Cyn, though. Everyone else does,” Cyn said with a wicked grin. Father Cleary raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything about the double entendre.

drop my bag and walk over to him, put my arms

You’re not perfect and neither am I. We all have flaws, it’s all about how you move on and become the person you were meant to be.

wraps an arm around me and squeezes.

sex,

Cam

hell?

guess

I've had my human experience, and now I know what it's like when good people do nothing. - Cyn Austen

maybe that wasn’t love. maybe it was dependence