The descriptions that make us fall in love with the Master of the City.
Guilty Pleasures

His voice was like silken whispers in the small hours of night. (p20)


The Laughing Corpse

He was tall, pale, and handsome. Sexier than a silk teddy. (p96)


He moved like a dancer, or a cat, a smooth, gliding walk. Energy and grace ontained, waiting to explode into violence. (p107)


His hair was  perfectly black, curling softly, around his face. The eyes, if you dared to look into them, were a blue so dark it was almost black. Glittering, dark jewels.  (p107)


His voice was like silk on a wound, gentle with an edge of pain. Like sex. It was like velvet rubbing inside my skull. It felt good, even with fear tearing through my body. (p182)


The laugh was like candy: sweet, and infectious. If you could bottle Jean-Claude's laugh, I know it would be fattenting. Or orgasmic. (p183)


He laughed then. The sound was like silk brushed across the nape of the neck. It felt smooth and good, but it made you shudder. (p195)





Bloody Bones

"Good evening, ma petite." That was it, all he said, but even over the buzzing phone his voice was like fur inside my skull. (p132)


He walked into the room with that wonderful gliding motion of his. Part cat, part dancer part something else. (p158)


His words were growing softer. A whisper in the dark that hovered around my body like a line of warmth, His voice was always like that, touchable. (p159)


Jean-Claude didn't so mch sit in the cahir as fold his body around it. The movement was almost catlike. (p 163)





The Killing Dance

Jean-Claude looked like and advertisement for Wet Dreams "R" Us. (p124-25)


I stared up into those blue, blue eyes like a sky before a storm, or seawater where the rocks lie deep and cold. (p127)


I searched that beauty, those dark eyes. There was no pull to them, no power, except the thick black lines of his lashes, and the rich color like the sky just before darkness swallows the world when you think all is black, but there in the west is a shade of blue, dark and rich as ink. Beauty had it's own power. (p337)


He met my gaze and smiled. It was the smile he always had. That smile that said he was thinking wicked little thought, things you'd only do in the dark on a dare. For the first time, I wanted everything that smile promised. (p339)


Emotions flowed over his face. Tenderness, triumph, need. "I have wanted this for so ling, ma petite, so very long."  He eased in and out, slowly, almost tentatively. I watched his face until the play of emotion was too much, too honest. There was something like pain in his eyes, something that I didn't even come close to understanding. (p341)  (I think this is where I fell completely in love with JC)




Burnt Offerings