He-d Sentence Examples
He jumped up, as if he'd seen a ghost.
Maybe he'd rather listen than talk.
While she was outside having a pity party, he was trying to figure out what he'd done wrong.
Cade looked as if he'd been slapped.
Well, Bordeaux was just the man to help her forget it - if he'd only dedicate his attentions to Darcie.
I can imagine how he'd react.
If he couldn't get in the shed, he'd probably find some other place to stay warm.
Sure, he'd had some rough times, but she had never done anything to make him think she would be unfaithful.
Not that he'd been out much lately.
Once. That's what I was afraid he'd remember.
AdvertisementOr do you think he'd consider it part of his job to watch me?
She stumbled up the dune behind him and stopped when he held out a hand.
If he'd knocked me up I'd have got an abortion.
Slowly he lowered his head to hers and his lips found hers - warm and questioning.
He ran a hand through his hair and clamped his hat on his head.
AdvertisementFinally he mounted and held a hand down to Cassie.
She turned her head so that he would not see the tears burning her eyes.
Bordeaux shook his head as he stepped down from the buggy.
It was hard to tell whether the sarcasm had gone over his head or he simply wasn't amused.
She watched him head for the barn and wondered how he could stand being out in the cold all day.
AdvertisementHe turned his horse and started through the herd.
He shook his head soberly.
He lifted a hand and shook his head.
He shook his head and ran his fingers along the rich top of the piano.
His expression was openly compassionate as he reached out, drawing her into his arms and guiding her head to his shoulder.
AdvertisementIn his hand he held a bowl of ice cream, and his eyes held a welcome spark of humor.
She stretched out on the couch beside him; resting her head on his chest and he draped the blanket across her shoulders, his arm falling loosely on her waist.
He turned his head and kissed her fingers.
Again he bent his head and his lips questioned hers gently at first, and then with more emotion when she responded.
Again he stroked her cheek and bent his head.
And then he moved over her, his fingers sliding up her arm as it lay beside her head.
After all, she had made the first move, turning her head as he kissed her cheek.
After all, if she hadn't turned her head when he kissed her on the cheek, maybe things wouldn't have turned out the same way.
He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again, shaking his head.
He stared at her with a perplexed expression and finally shook his head.
He pulled his hands from behind his back and held them out to her.
He lifted his head and met her gaze.
He lifted his hat from the peg and clamped it on his head and then paused, one hand on the door while he studied her face.
He lifted the apron over her head.
He rolled his eyes and hit the side of his head with the heel of his hand.
He shook his head in disbelief.
For a moment he held Zach, body in one hand and head cradled in the other.
Howie doesn't have to work but he still suffers from head trauma, is pretty depressed and frankly, doesn't know what to do with himself.
He nodded his head and asked how long he slept.
He held a phone to his ear.
Quinn could poke around with his experiments on his own time as he'd done all summer.
He recognized the grandson as the victim of the earlier abduction on which he'd reported.
This Cooms guy said he'd fix us up any place we wanted, didn't he?
When I noticed his flashing lights behind me, I nearly raced away but he'd have caught me.
I mentioned finding the old name of Willard Humphries and asked if Brennan could check if he'd been released.
He reiterated he'd made no move to learn of our location or names.
The driver struck his passenger repeatedly on the side of her head with his free hand as he drove deeper into the wood.
Previously, he'd carefully planned his abductions and never came close to getting caught.
Brennan thanked us for the name and said he'd try to run down his whereabouts.
It was the city of his seminary training in an attempt to resurrect his past he'd visited.
He was so incensed; he'd try as many times as it took.
In fact, he's gone missing, Quinn held a super market tabloid as we shared coffee before starting our day.
Betsy asked after once more, he'd left early.
He may have harbored suspicions but he'd closeted his curiosity.
Howie remained obsessed that he'd failed to nail the culprit and when he heard of this later case, he begged Quinn to take enough time away from his wife and new daughter for a single session.
Just before Howie was ready to give up, he was startled by a figure he'd not heard enter the house!
None the less, we were elated at the detail he'd gathered.
Well, he'd be in for a shock if we posted it.
Besides, if he was imprisoned for a crime like these murders, he'd still be rotting behind bars.
True to his word, he'd rather not know any answers than lie to inquisitors.
I don't suppose he'd agree.
He stood there, trying to take deep breaths, knowing he'd lost his cool.
On Monday, Howie was on time, unusual as I assumed he'd driven his guests back to Massachusetts Sunday afternoon and would wait until early morning to return.
He failed to discuss his itinerary but commented freely on how he'd enjoyed the weekend.
Quinn complained of a headache and I silently wondered if he'd over indulged the night before.
Martha continued to whisper to me she wished he'd go easier on the booze.
I guess he'd need a hospital.
Howie stammered through his side of the conversation, terminating it by saying he'd call back.
Howie would toss in towel once he learned he'd been deceived by this woman, his first love.
I looked forward to weekends when he'd come back down to Boston and we'd get together.
That was all he'd asked of us.
We would if he'd let me bracket enough times instead of quitting just because he gets tired.
Since he'd dropped into seclusion there were any number of times I could have used his council.
Lake Erie sits north of Ohio for a long stretch so to get into Canada going east; he'd enter in New York State, around Niagara Falls.
Quinn agreed and said he'd get back to me.
When I heard his voice, my heart jumped, not knowing if he'd been told by Martha of Julie's earlier treachery.
Howie's mother took a turn for the worse and he'd been advised she wouldn't make it.
While Molly looked troubled when she returned, Bumpus was just the opposite, hopping around like he'd just retrieved a ball and would win a reward.
I was afraid he'd bite the man and I'd get in big trouble.
He let go and swung the butt of the knife at my head as I fell to the floor.
It ticked me that he'd ask that question.
I congratulated him on the great work he'd done and he again thanked me for getting him together with Daniel Brennan.
He said he'd make arrangement for the room and his equipment.
I considered calling Howie and learn what he'd told the detective before I blurted out something that totally contradicted what my former partner in crime had related.
I agreed and mentioned the timing of the power shut off at Howie's house after he'd left town.
When I informed him we were terminating our operation, he said he'd have suggested it if we hadn't already done so.
He held up his hand in a stopping gesture.
I explained the situation briefly and the patrolman recognized I was the object of the call he'd just received from Jackson.
Thankfully, he'd spotted my family and given them a ride home!
He didn't get that much of a head start.
That is, if he'd even speak with me.
All I could think was once again, we were oh so close, but he'd alluded us.
I turned my head but he simply gave a wave of his hand.
Howard; that's all he'd let you call him.
My mind jingled with questions of recidivism of his souls, the operation he'd alleged to have personally endured and if others had followed suit, or, if he encouraged them to do so.
He'd forgone the trip to pick me up, afraid he'd miss a call for information on his sister's death.
Jackson must have thought I didn't hear him because he repeated what he'd said.
It looks like he'd just come out of the shower and got it from behind, with something heavy.
I wanted to remind this troubled soul of the good he'd wrought but thoughts of Betsy prevented my saying the words.
A realization he'd never touch them again didn't dispel the feeling I was prying into his world.
That was the scientist in Quinn, frustrated that within grasp he held the partnered ability with Howie to go where no one before them had ventured.
It surprised me to find he'd carted more of his research to California than I'd expected.
If so, he'd know Julie was Molly's mother.
Molly was his prime target but for some reason, he'd kept me alive.
I could tell by the look on his face, he'd had no such thought.
I was certain he'd awake at the sound but his slumber was so deep he didn't move.
I assumed he'd been called to the hospital.
I agreed to search while he'd put out an all-points bulletin on the vehicle Howie was driving.
Bianca held her breath and waited, able to feel the tension between them even with her eyes closed until he spoke again.
Now, he could deliver what he'd always promised-- a life together-- yet she didn't feel like leaping for joy like she would've a year ago.
He gripped his forearm in the same spot he'd told her Jonny had been bitten but shook his head.
He shook his head and squeezed the steering wheel until one of his fingers popped.
He hesitated, then shook his head.
An hour of sleep was the longest he'd managed in over a week, and he felt more tired than when he lay down.
Her words fueled the sense of dread he'd felt the past two weeks, since he'd lost contact with his closest friends.
He couldn't remember when he'd last had a full five hours of his own, and he knew he wasn't likely to get another break for a while.
It was a call he'd been expecting but hoping not to get.
He drained her life until she was near blackness before he flung his head back with a contented sigh.
His reminded her of a cobra about to strike, though he'd pulled the gun up to his shoulder.
He nodded his head towards the garage door.
It left him more hands-on with the western front than he'd been in hundreds of years.
From his shoulders to his chest to his flat midsection, every part of him looked as if he'd been carefully carved from stone.
He hadn't thought twice about Toni's message that he'd delivered the package from the stash house to his condo until he walked in and discovered the vamp he expected was a woman.
He hadn't paid much attention to any woman in many, many years, but couldn't help thinking her one of the most attractive he'd ever met.
He glanced out the window and realized he'd pulled in the entrance for the emergency room and morgue.
He'd never be normal, not with what he'd done.
He placed the tip of a gun to Bianca's head.
She didn't move the entire trip back to the condo, as if afraid he'd blow her head off next.
Suspecting he'd just driven Sofi's healer completely catatonic, he peeled her soaked sweater and jeans off to display matching pink underwear.
Even traumatized, she was one of the sexiest women he'd ever seen.
He really didn't want her to lose the spark of life he'd found as appealing as her body.
He held her gaze, gauging her reaction.
He could have told her he was the devil and that he now owned her soul, and she would have stayed there, wondering if he'd kiss her.
It was midnight, and he'd just finished reading Jenn's latest report.
He had her wrists pinned above her head.
She tugged at her hands, but he held her tight, enjoying the feel of her beneath him.
Bianca was warm and sweet, the kind of woman who deserved better than he'd ever have to offer.
He hadn't thought it as harsh as it was, just like he thought nothing of killing anything in his path, but seeing the look on a normal human's face reminded him he'd been close to losing what humanity he possessed for quite a while.
He was quiet for a moment, his thoughts going to the life he'd lived before the Schism.
He closed his eyes to Travel out of the condo, aware he'd snapped at her once again.
He didn't have to wonder where he'd die-- only how.
Sofi's skill relied mostly on reading the future of a specific soul by touching them, and he'd not let her within miles of a vamp since taking over her guardianship.
As a stranger to human affection, he'd never quite gotten used to her hugs.
He whipped out his phone and trotted down the stairs, typing a response to one of the many texts he'd received.
He wolfed down the sandwich Bianca made him, unable to remember the last time he'd eaten breakfast.
In a few days, he'd be dead, and food wouldn't matter.
He has to do that, or he'd be in violation of rule number one.
He touched his face again then rubbed the back of his head.
He looked up, a surprised expression crossing his face, as if he'd told her something he wasn't supposed to.
He disappeared, and she stared at the place where he'd been, wondering why he was so upset with himself.
If he'd been talking about any other man, she would have doubted his words.
I figured when he found out I ruined his life, he'd kill me anyway.
Darian, who he'd just pulled off the bottom of the ocean instead of attending his planning session to deal with the Talon issue.
At barely ten years old, he'd been too weak to fight off full-grown men, too weak to protect her.
He held out his hand.
She was fully a part of him when they touched, as if he'd been missing more than a piece of his soul all these years and just now realized it.
She'd spent the past four hundred years in college, gleefully learning more and more and working out of the lab he'd funded for her.
Any of us in the field receive it, he said and held up his iPhone.
She gave him a puzzled smile and reached out to take the phone he held out.
She stared in the space he'd occupied and looked at the phone.
He hesitated then wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek against her head.
She stepped into his view, and he dropped his arms, throwing back his head to suck in deep breaths.
As the baby of the three, he'd always been the rock star among them.
He sensed he'd upset her, but she didn't leave, just squeezed him tighter.
His gaze strayed towards the barracks, where he'd left Bianca.
Rather, he'd done the decent thing and spared her further heartache.
Cold fury replaced the regret, and he knew he'd do anything to keep her from danger.
There was a reason he'd severed his connection to his emotions all those years ago.
Jonny wouldn't listen to his nagging sister, but he'd darned well listen to a man as terrifying as Dusty could be.
It had something to do with Bianca, with destroying where he'd started with her.
He had no control of his own powers, and he'd not yet been tested in a confrontation with the man who enslaved him.
Her phone vibrated as she trotted down the stairs, and she glanced down, smiling to see he'd texted.
He held out his hand to Talon, who plunked a gun into it.
He clutched his head and gave a small moan.
He expected these days to be his last, but he'd give the order to decimate the entire state if it meant humanity as a whole survived.
The Darian he'd known was gone.
Somehow, he'd survived and was auctioned off like an animal with several other children his age.
He couldn't lose the only other woman he'd ever cared about.
He'd sworn to Damian that he'd protect him.
Of all the coddling he'd accused Sofi and Bianca of doing, he'd been working hard to protect Darian from anything that might force him to grow into his powers.
He held up a hand, fascinated to see through it to the car parked in front of him.
He deserved it, after all the trouble he'd been, but these people didn't!
He froze at the distant voice in his head.
He pulled out his phone, texted Bianca, and waited, willing the message to make it to her in the in-between world where he'd accidentally sent her.
She hadn't been able to get through to anyone else and wondered if there was some magic trick he'd done to reach her.
She rubbed her head and glared at him, watching as he followed his father in the direction where both sky and sea darkened into blackness.
He cared for her, but she didn't think he'd ever let anything get between him and his duty.
He held out a hand.
His light was off, a sign he'd been sleeping too hard to notice someone come in.
Jonny looked apprehensive yet resigned, as if he'd known this was coming.
Several times she'd thought Dusty had the upper hand and could've killed the leering vamp, and several times, he'd stopped, once with a glance at his watch.
While he stood in Dusty's corner, she wasn't convinced he'd chosen a side.
His body shook, and he flung his head back to the sky with a hoarse shout.
He held out his hand, and she deposited a small trinket in it.
He hadn't thought himself unhappy; he'd never thought about it at all.
Long ago, before her death, when he'd had a family.
If he let himself, he'd feel that again with Bianca.
He held her, never imagining anything could feel so right despite the rain and cold.
His brothers weren't any closer than they had been, but the sound of their voices made him realize how alone he'd really felt the past two weeks.
Finally, he'd reached the top of a hill overlooking a small, familiar village that glowed with warmth.
The hair on the back of his neck had been standing for the past mile he'd walked, only he wasn't entirely certain why.
The voice he'd dreaded hearing finally spoke.
Why, then, was he starting to feel as if he'd been set up?
He held her gaze, struck by the aura of power around her.
With magic or without, he'd won every brawl he'd ever been in, and he definitely wasn't afraid to fight a girl.
He wrapped her arm around her throat as he pulled her into his body and held her there with an arm across her chest.
He wasn't sure what her gift was or what she was trying to do, but he'd never met a Natural with her unique combination of power and strength.
His panther-like physique and tattoos gave him all the appearance of a threat, and yet, he'd fended off her blows with gentleness he didn't have to show.
She'd always been grateful to him for accepting her and her gift, but he'd always refused to tell her what exactly he was and how he seemed to be able to read her mind sometimes.
Despite his cold words, he'd left a present for her on the nightstand near her bed.
Sometimes he did this after he'd hit her or screamed at her worse than usual.
He raised his head as she took a step into the room and met her gaze.
He leaned his head against the wall.
He looked the same as when he'd come for her at the orphanage.
His gaze was intent, and she suspected he'd just now reached that decision.
If the man didn't freeze down there, he'd die at the hands of her father and his strange delusion that this man wanted her dead.
She gasped, surprised he'd admit to what he'd done.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd found any woman so intriguing.
He closed his eyes, remembering a time when he'd made a similar choice.
He's the head of the vamps.
He watched her go, suspecting he'd missed more than he thought during the few months he spent with Jule in Europe.
When she returned fully dressed and armed to the teeth, he held out his hand.
The woman strained to break his grip, but he held her in place.
The room smelled familiar, and he realized he'd chosen her room.
Any hope he'd had of finding something—anything!—to use as a weapon was dashed as he looked around the sparsely decorated room.
Jule snapped off the end of the arrow in his shoulder, not about to bleed to death before he'd killed the immortal.
His shoulder didn't move as it should, and he switched the sword to his other hand, trusting his instincts to keep his head on his shoulders.
It didn't have the kind of bandages she suspected he'd need for his shoulder, so she turned several towels into thick bandages and added them to the pile.
Too weak to push it off, he let his head drop back onto the cushion behind him.
Jule rested where he'd fallen and tried to concentrate.
If he could shake his fever and take care of himself, he'd be okay alone.
When he'd finished, he swapped out the soup for the water.
She was even more afraid of what he'd say, if he thought something was wrong with her like everyone else did.
As if worn out, he rested his head against the cushions.
She didn't think he'd answer and glanced up at him.
Jule had shattered her carefully built world in a day, and he'd done it without the brutal lessons her father resorted to.
He sounded pleased, unlike the moods he'd been in lately.
She'd assumed he'd trained her in place of the son he didn't have.
He shook his head to clear it and reached across the island.
Four of the five vamps he'd chosen as bodyguards were exchanging looks of derision behind his back, and the vamp he tried to interrogate was openly ridiculing him.
Thus far, he'd listened to her, and she hoped he feared Damian enough to continue paying attention.
He sat in the chair in front of the vamp he'd fixated on.
The vamp whose neck he held had a look of horror on its face, and the air around them buzzed with magic.
It seemed too real, and he'd dwelled long on what he could remember of the conversation.
He rested his hand on her expanding stomach and his chin on her head.
He hugged her, a darker thought crossing his mind as he held her and their child close.
If he hadn't chosen to become a vamp, he'd be a very useful Guardian.
The plan he'd begun to form was finally taking shape.
He wobbled on his feet and shook his head.
She didn't know what Xander was, but he'd said one thing that struck her hard.
He tipped his head in a silent greeting.
He was tightly wrapped in black fabric, his head towards the ocean.
He held out his arm.
His golden eyes were calm, and he was dressed as if he'd just finished sparring.
He didn't tear my head off when he sought me out the first time.
Jenn watched, confused, until he lowered his head to her neck.
Jonny was only accepting the path he'd already chosen, but it was a difficult pill for her to swallow.
Realization of exactly what he'd asked for made Jule breathe out hard.
He suddenly cocked his head to the side.
His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and then he held out his hand.
He pulsed as strongly as the two blocked men with the power he'd absorbed.
Xander crossed his arms, his head tilted in interest as he listened.
He was taller than it by a head.
Jenn bit back a retort and left, unable to shake the sense he'd told her something he didn't mean for her to know.
She held out a hand to him, and he took it.
His look was too intense for her to doubt she was among what he'd discovered.
He held out a hand, and she hugged him instead of taking it.
He held out his hand, and Yully went to him.
She ignored the hunk, hoping he'd take the hint.
He held out a bottle of red water.
Jake wiped his mouth the way he did when he'd admitted to cheating on her four years ago.
Damian waved to show he'd heard and then took the stairs two at a time to his room.
In a blink, he'd Traveled there.
The quarterly conference held four times a century with the highest ranking station commanders was coming up soon, and he had more pressing issues to resolve before it launched.
Damian knew if they had video chat, he'd see Jule rolling his eyes.
Damian grimaced, recalling the last time he'd seen the beautiful woman, his slain brother's wife.
The Guardian's muffled voice grew louder as he pulled the head off the costume.
She ducked her head and braced herself as he reached for her again.
She didn't know what he was, and she had a feeling he'd welcomed her into a world that belonged solely to him.
She was the greatest find since he'd taken over the war from his slain brother.
He hadn't held a woman in too long, and he'd never held one for the sole purpose of comforting her.
He felt it in his bones, just as he'd felt a soul-deep connection to her the moment he'd touched her.
It held breakfast for two, and he racked his mind for who the other was.
His crying and shifting distracted her from the strange world around her and made her head pulse, as if he were trying to pry his way into her unwilling mind.
He was pretending to read a book, though she suspected he'd been emplaced as her bodyguard.
There were only two men in the world he'd entrust with his life.
Something about the woman made him think of things he'd not thought about in ages.
There was a reason he banned thoughts of Darian and Claire from his mind, an instinct he'd never been able to face in all the years since Darian's death.
He held her another minute, resting his chin on her head.
Her presence alone was already prodding free memories he'd thought he'd buried.
His look was intense, much different than the warmth he'd displayed earlier that afternoon.
When he rejoined her, he'd put on a T-shirt and sandals.
Her head hurt again, this time from trying to digest what he was telling her.
The kind of creature that could do such things to other men left her no doubt he'd do the same to her if she didn't obey.
This would be the first year he'd gone into the negative in a thousand of years.
He held up the long syringe.
And he'd brought her somewhere where she could be safe.
He shifted his hand to her neck and held her in place, placing his bloodied wrist against her lips.
He didn't think he'd ever met a human or Guardian as honest as this one.
His gaze followed her until she disappeared into the house, and he shook his head.
She'd been there twice before today and only knocked once for fear he'd answer.
He reached for her, but his scarred hand passed through hers, as if all that remained of him was a ghost of the man he'd been.
His head remained shoved under a pillow, and his body relaxed, as if he were falling back asleep.
He didn't like that she was able to pull those memories free of the prison he'd sent them to.
Claire was as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her.
He held her at arm's length, forcing himself out of the cloud of desire tormenting him.
Sofia rubbed her temples but didn't move, grateful he wasn't hurting her head for once.
He shook his head despite the desire on his face.
If he made a choice, she wanted it to be the choice he'd make whether or not she was there.
A short time later, she sagged against the toilet, ignoring Pierre as he tsked and held her hair.
He held out his hand, and Dusty clasped his wrist, allowing Damian to Travel them both to Tucson Sector HQ.
At least he'd know who the traitors were by the end of the night.
A strange voice in his head spoke the word again, and he saw the woman with blue and silver eyes.
They exchanged a greeting in a foreign language that sounded like Russian before he held out his hand to her.
The words were too painful, and by the predatory stillness of the man across from her, she was terrified of what he'd do if she said it again.
Long-buried rage was bubbling upward, along with the tiny instinct he'd squashed thousands of years ago.
Claire was all that remained of his brother, and he'd loved her out of respect for a man whose death he'd never been able to accept.
Dusty's whisper brought him out of his mind, and he realized he was kneeling on the floor with his head bowed.
Darian had even tried to warn him, and he'd never wanted to see what was in front of him.
The words were familiar, the same words he'd spoken to Dusty thousands of years ago, when he'd discovered the youth who was not yet a man on a slave trader's block, bloodied and weeping for the family he'd just lost.
He waited in the library until he'd composed himself and left for his suite.
Pierre's lip was completely insubordinate, and it was obvious he'd never worked for Dusty.
She'd struggled with Claire, wanting to spare him the pain he'd unleashed on her.
He'd been as gentle with her as he'd known how, and still she suffered under the weight of the visions.
He loved her hugs, though he'd never experienced hugs since he was a babe.
Traci told him not to think about asking her to marry him just because she's pregnant, and he said she had no choice and he'd drag the priest to her.
She shook her head as if he were the fool.
Damian gritted his teeth, remembering how tempted he'd been by the same ruse a few nights before.
He glared down at her, looking for some sign of the woman he'd thought she was.
She stared at him, her surprise the first genuine emotion he'd seen.
An eerie quiet followed, and she wasn't sure if he'd shed his human body and take out her and everything else.
From his home videos, he'd never lowered his guard to anyone, even Claire.
Damian listened to the door close behind her, stunned by what he'd seen in her thoughts.
He felt both spent and wired, his head too full of memories to control.
At one point after his brother's death, he'd considered making Claire his queen.
In hindsight, he wondered how he'd ever been fooled or why he'd settle for Claire when there was someone like Sofia out there, who'd love him for him and not for his title.
He spent the night deep in thought, forcing himself to face the dark memories he'd tried so hard to bury.
It was the first time he'd understood the words she spoke to him.
The halls narrowed and sloped, and he knew he'd been this way before even though he didn't remember when.
He looked around and found a familiar dirt trail that led to a large rock overlooking the desert he'd sat on earlier to watch the sunset.
He clasped his arms behind his head and lay down, impervious to the cold.
He didn't know how to leave the underground prison, or he'd take her outside to see them.
He'd not said anything to her since the other night, when he'd almost destroyed the world.
He opened the box to reveal a man's platinum signet ring with the half-moon, half-sun, and arrow symbol neatly carved on its head.
She didn't know if he'd welcome the gift or if his recent ordeal left him more jaded toward his past.
He towered head and shoulders over the mostly female crowd and leaned with deceptive casualness that radiated danger against one of the pillars in the food court.
He looked at the charm dangling from her necklace and held out his hand to her, palm up.
If it weren't so unsafe, he'd take her with him.
With Claire's death, he'd avenged his brother and righted the wrong made thousands of years ago.
She pulled out the cell he'd given her and called the only number in it.
Rainy called to say he'd be there for a while cleaning up the mess.
The dead vamp's memories were fresh in her mind, and she sought the sights he'd passed.
She twisted her head away as he dripped the blood over her lips.
He snatched her head with his other hand, then held her nose closed as she clamped her mouth shut.
His first memory was of waking up then of everything he'd done for the day.
He was Damian's size, though by his lopsided shoulders and scars, he'd survived some sort of serious injury.
He lowered his head to her ear.
He placed her on the table and retreated, shaking his head and swiping at the air around him, as if plagued by bees.
If there was a way to make him see what was in her head … to make him remember … she focused on Damian's memories, the ones before the dark age, when he and his brother were happy.
He walked through the halls quickly, the emerging thoughts in his head baffling him.
All he could see in his head was kiri sobbing and the dreams she'd made him remember.
Every time he freed her, he hoped she would return to his head.
He held Damian's ring in front of her face and then tucked it into her jeans.
He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to someone.
Sofia stared up at him, not daring to hope he'd help her.
He showed her a picture of where he'd taken Damian.
I'm scared, kiri, he said again into her head.
He held his head and leaned into her, struggling.
He stared into Darian's gold eyes, seeking some sign of the man he'd known.
Damian's own head was fuzzy from the effects of the drink he'd been force fed.
He reached out to his brother and touched his head to Darian's forehead.
Jule had never said what he'd done to piss someone off and get exiled to earth, but it must have been bad if the Watcher's kind clipped his powers and sent him packing.
He settled one of his cool looks on her and tossed his head toward the stairs.
His tone was enough to tell her he'd show no mercy.
Just when he'd thought Sofia couldn't surprise him more, she did.
He was more and more appalled by the memories afflicting his brother, what he'd gone through since his supposed death.
He appeared calm and in control again, if not relaxed, with the only three men he'd ever trusted.
By the blank look in his unseeing eyes, he'd fallen into his thoughts again.
She didn't miss the look of relief that crossed Pierre's face and suspected he'd been threatened with a reassignment for shooting her.
She braced herself against the memories running through his head and the confusion as he tried to figure out where he was.
If her bond to him was like hers to Gabriel, he'd be able to find her no matter what.
Gabriel's intense hatred was born of intense love and pain, and he'd clearly never made up his mind about her in the time they were together.
Since he was the one she wanted to learn to outsmart, in case things broke bad, she doubted he'd teach her anything.
That he'd beat out the original Dark One in a deal did not bode well for her.
He grinned at the attempt and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck.
He nuzzled her neck, and she tilted her head.
He pinned her hands above her head to keep her still then whispered the command again.
If Gabriel had killed her while trying to save her, he'd kill the soul in her head, too, the one that damned Deidre to Hell.
He nudged her head to the side to reach her neck, and she pushed back, refusing.
He nudged her head once more.
She struggled against him, not caring what he did to her now that he'd taken away her only real hope of leaving.
He shifted forward as he spoke and nudged her head aside with his.
He lifted his head.
He held her in place.
He offered a small smile, not nearly as large as the one he'd given her the day he gave her the advice that ended up condemning her.
After what he'd done to her, she wasn't able to.
She hated that he'd always known exactly what to say to get to her.
He locked one arm around her in response, the other holding her head.
She still didn't quite trust he'd keep his word, but she prayed with every ounce of her soul that he did.
His head was bowed near hers, eyes closed, as if he was…pleased to share the moment with her.
He was yielding now, as he'd been last night.
He nudged her head aside, and she yielded, albeit unhappily.
He lowered his head and nudged hers aside, nipping at her neck.
He tilted his head in a sign of genuine curiosity.
Chuckling, he pushed her head away as she tried to reach his neck.
He held out something to her.
No, she didn't trust the Dark One, but she doubted he'd cover up what he was.
The knowledge made her want to scream, knowing she'd spent years blindly letting him talk to her like this and encourage her with pretty words, while he ensured the tumor in her head killed her.
He shook his head firmly.
She'd judged right; he'd do whatever it took to survive.
He repositioned Selyn's head then gripped her chin and squeezed her cheeks until her mouth opened.
She hoped he'd drop the subject, that they could start over.
She willed her hair shorter and blonde once again, knowing he'd already read her mind and seen the reason why she changed her hair.
I figured if he survived the worst Hell had to offer, he'd make a worthy successor.
I knew he'd figure out something.
He held her for a moment then swept her up in his arms.
It was difficult to hear how easily he'd evaluated and cornered her to get her to Hell.
She was almost angry enough with Wynn to wish he'd stayed here just a little longer.
He lifted his head in blatant rejection.
His hands moved down her body, and he nudged her head aside.
The action that once terrified her now made desire bloom in anticipation of what he'd do.
He held her gaze without speaking.
He reached into his pocket and held out his hand.
When he'd slowed to the shoulder he was surprised to discover his error as a uniformed female emerged from the vehicle.
It was four o'clock and he'd just returned from Montrose to find Cynthia still damp from her shower.
Dean didn't dare say he hadn't noticed and described the tall red head in general terms.
Cynthia was still in the room when he returned, towel wrapped and shaking his wet head.
She timidly entered their room before he'd finished buttoning.
The way Fred loves mysteries you'd think he'd be thrilled to be a part of a real jury.
She snuggled next to him, usually an invitation for love, but tonight he sensed she just wanted to be held.
He didn't tell her he'd heard Joseph himself call the Jeep rental dealer earlier.
He repeated his intentions to continue his education in the off season, skirting the fact he'd be kissing off the final year of his scholarship.
I'd take your hairbrush to his backside so he'd never sit down again—or play his stupid baseball!
I think he'd prefer that to you hanging up on him.
If he could hit a little white ball, he'd be a legend in the 'hood!
Fred scratched his head as he held up the skull for close examination.
Maybe, but he'd have to be careful.
Without rope, he'd never make it all the way, but he'd go as far as he could.
He waved his flashlight in an arc above his head and repeated the two words, a quake in his voice.
He was peppered with questions from the rescuers, many of whom he recognized, but he held responses to a negative shake of his head and Billy Langstrom's name.
He was shaking his head no when she said, There's one just like it in the kitchen.
Why did you ask him where he'd been—and earlier ask me if I'd seen him?
By the time he'd nibbled at a salad for lunch and changed into a suit, he was a nervous wreck.
He was an excellent speaker and unabashedly told the gathering how he'd found the local sheriff's office in disarray and how it lacked up-to-date tools to deal with modern problems.
Once Dean was standing at the podium and he'd controlled the shake in his knees and hidden the sweat on his palms, he felt he didn't do badly.
He highlighted some of the teenage antidrug and alcohol programs he'd worked with over the years.
While I can't say for certain he'd been drinking—the autopsy hasn't been performed yet—I know from past experience that many of our teenagers drink regularly.
The remainder of the meeting rocked back and forth, but there was no doubt in Dean's mind that he'd been hurt badly—and unfairly—by Fitzgerald.
While it was a nice ending, Dean didn't kid himself that he'd won the confrontation.
He explained how he'd tossed the liquor bottle he found at the site of the wrecked Jeep.
In spite of the drubbing he'd taken in the debate, he felt pretty good.
If he had an extra couple of hundred, I wish he'd put it toward his bill.
The other two he'd seen about town but couldn't put a name with a face.
Roger said he'd heard it was some investor from out west.
But after a night of boozing, he'd punch out a nun in a wheelchair for looking at him the wrong way.
Did he discover he'd been taken and was then too embarrassed to discuss it?
Walking back to Bird Song, Dean mulled over what he'd learned.
When he'd finished, she simply stared at him.
He neglected telling her he'd tossed the bottle he'd found at the scene.
His remark stung, as he'd meant it to.
After all, he'd abdicated all Bird Song's weekend chores in favor of his flesh-pressing tour, and Cynthia deserved a rest.
Fitzgerald looked as if he'd found a Captain Midnight ring in his cereal.
They were too busy knocking on Fred's door before he'd even risen to book their reservations for Cyberville.
She peered behind them, as if searching to see if he'd been followed.
He's like holding it over my head.
Then he'd know for sure it was Sheriff Seymour Fitzgerald.
Dean lied that he'd miss them and strolled into the kitchen where Cynthia and Maria were enjoying a second breakfast.
He just wished his stepfather would be more forthcoming about the nature of his concern so he'd know how to help.
But he realized Fitzgerald held the upper hand—at least for the present.
His only comment of note was that Patsy, while obviously exhausted, seemed especially cheerful— "pleased with herself" was how he'd described her.
I guess we have to trust him, but I wish he'd stop going solo and confide in us.
He had neither authority nor right to ignore her emphatic command that he leave her place and remain silent about what he'd seen.
It was reminiscent of some thriller he'd read.
Fitzgerald still had not reported to Denver but it was now thought he'd taken a few days of leave to sort things out.
She was more nervous than he'd ever seen her.
We made a deal—he'd go back to Denver—there was no way we could work together—and he'd drop the election.
The tracks of the vehicle that preceded him were clear in the dust of the turnoff, and he knew he'd guessed correctly as he neared the now-familiar meadow below the mine.
He had no flashlight, and the fear he'd felt during his first trip into this deep and dank hole was compounded by the absence of being able to see.
He knew without Martha's map he'd never remember the various turns he and Cynthia had taken to where the skeleton had reposed for over fifty years.
When I called Billy to tell him I was coming out this summer, he mentioned he'd found some old bones in a mine but he was afraid of getting in trouble for breaking in.
Billy knew where he'd found the skeleton.
We marked the way out of the mine but then he showed us he'd picked up our markings.
They figured he'd left to go fishing by himself just after we returned to Kansas.
One school of thought held that he was a victim of unproven rumors about Billy Langstrom's accident, spread to Denver by Billy's high school friends.
While the autopsy questioned the day-old curious knife wound in his backside, it was assumed he'd stupidly sat on a very sharp object.
Fred O'Connor seemed a tad put out that he'd been absent from the final confrontation in the Lucky Pup Mine until Dean reminded him that without his Internet connection and library research, Martha's bones would still be without identity.
Now it was time to see if he'd guessed correctly.
Silently agreeing, Wynn released the breath he held only after he heard the door close behind Darkyn.
The idea he'd gone through something like this, and she didn't know to help him made her sad.
He didn't say he'd ask to touch her.
The night before, he'd left his dying mate, praying he was able to save her life.
He pushed aside the nagging instincts he'd been ignoring since seeing her earlier.
Now, she was at least half the woman he'd spent lifetimes loving and hating.
She paused to consider her options again then dumped out what he'd started.
The underworld would open for him, when he'd conquered his challenges here in the human realm.