For a brief, weird minute I felt like Dorothy in Oz, walking down the street with Terric the doubtful, Shame the brainless, and heartless Zay.
Devon Monk... he was sunset against the mountains, strong, vibrant, dangerous, and yet somehow sheltering, protective. And married. Picnic, meet rain.
Devon MonkI doubt she likes the idea of seeing him put back in a cage.” “Maybe not,” he said. “But she knows that the Authority are the only people who might be able to help him.” “Or kill him,” I said. “That too. What is life without risk?” “Long?” Terric laughed, a sort of high whooping that made me—and Zayvion, much to my surprise—smile. Contagious. For all he had a serious exterior, Terric was the guy you’d want to sit next to at a funny movie, just to hear him laugh.
Devon Monk…I noticed you don’t have any self-defense training…” “…I can handle myself just fine.” She stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, “In the very short time I’ve known you, you have been chased, shot, robbed, stabbed, drugged, and attacked by magic.” “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?
Devon Monk