Ann Aguirre
Ann Aguirre
Ann Aguirre is an American author of speculative fiction. She writes urban fantasy, romantic science fiction, apocalyptic paranormal romance, paranormal romantic suspense, and post-apocalyptic dystopian young-adult fiction...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
CountryUnited States of America
flames space people
Is that love? It seems like a pale word, too easily tossed about by people who don’t know the meaning of it, who twist it for their own ends. I’m afraid of it now, right up there with clowns, close spaces, and open flames.
fighting men who-i-am
He’s worth fighting for, but I won’t change who I am for any man. No more than he should alter himself to suit me.
effort dying
Dying isn’t like living; it requires no effort at all.
infinite solace single-word
His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.
cutting fighting hands
I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.
had-enough enough
I'm Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.
home animal hands
... Where did you go?” “Down below.” “Ugh,” she said. “I’ve heard they’re little better than animals.” Funny. I thought the same thing about most Topsiders I encountered. Tegan touched my hand in silent sympathy, and I set my jaw. ... I stepped forward and pasted on a false smile. We were in her home, after all. The least I could do was be polite. “I’m Deuce, animal from the underground.
heart littles bones
My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.
sky two curves
A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks; it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.
song lightning blades
He went in, lean and deadly, and ended the creature with a lightning-fast spike of his blade. It shrieked, likely altering the rest. The death call carried like a mournful song.
independent too-much demonstrating
Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.
orange glowing mad
He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.
fighting compassion knives
There were different kinds of strength. I knew that now. It didn't always come from a knife or a willingness to fight. Sometimes it came from endurance, where the well ran deep and quiet. Sometimes it came from compassion and forgiveness.
baby stupid fall
Are you afraid of falling, baby? No, I’m afraid of landing. [He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.] Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?