“The sorcerer’s creatures harried her, dragging at her skirts and tangling in her hair, as Lilith gripped the axe handle firmly and… — Georgina Anne Taylor Copy Share Image
“He clung to his pain as an anchor to the physical world, to the husk that housed his soul, too precious to… — Georgina Anne Taylor Hope Copy Share Image
“Lilith returned to her cooking. She didn't let herself think about anything but preparing the food, one ingredient at a time, a… — Georgina Anne Taylor Lilith Copy Share Image
“What need for feathers now? What need to confirm their loss? While the womb-red sky swelled with the promise of tomorrow, and… — Georgina Anne Taylor Copy Share Image
“The bloody red head emerged. The white sheet turned crimson. The infant sat up. Unfurling soft, white feathered wings, the newborn demigoddess… — Georgina Anne Taylor Red wings Copy Share Image
“Branches moved and shadows shifted as Lilith dug the poppet's final grave.” — Georgina Anne Taylor Copy Share Image
“A chill crept into his limbs and he began to question his struggle against the sure demise of his damaged flesh—so much… — Georgina Anne Taylor Memory Copy Share Image
“Meng flew low over the darkness of the treetops, thinking of Meabel’s silky body, his jealousy like a living entity inside him,… — Georgina Anne Taylor Death Copy Share Image
“As a child she had run wild, a brown-eyed and tousled-hair creature, lanky limbs scratched and bruised, among the fishing boats, the… — Georgina Anne Taylor Children Copy Share Image
“You just got what was coming for you!" Anger stripped the niceties from her speech. Lilith spun around to face him again—her… — Georgina Anne Taylor Anger Copy Share Image
“The surge of his ardour swept through him in climatic release, filling her womb with his final, mortal sowing.” — Georgina Anne Taylor Dark-fiction Copy Share Image
“You shall be the Reaper, Lilith,’ the Aquis said. ‘You shall be the Redeemer. The Seducer of Demigods and the Slayer of… — Georgina Anne Taylor Copy Share Image
“Lilith fought the urge to scream. Why couldn’t the bastard have remained dead? What sort of horrible, messed up fate was this?… — Georgina Anne Taylor Copy Share Image
“Secluded in her living room, the midday sun dimmed by long, burgundy drapes—the soft velvet cloth a steal on EBay—Circe watches the… — Georgina Anne Taylor Green eyes Copy Share Image
