Whiskey Words And A Shovel Series Novels & Stories

The days in Lonesome Dove were a blur of heat and as dr as chalk, but mash whiskey took some of the dry away and made Augustus feel nicely misty inside—foggy and cool as morning in the Tennessee hills. He seldom got downright drunk, but he did enjoy feeling misty along about sundown keeping his mood good with tasteful swigs as the sky to the west began to color up. The whiskey didn’t damage hi intellectual powers any, but it did make him more tolerant of the raw sorts he had to live with: Call and Pea Eye an Deets, young Newt, and old Bolivar, the cook When the sky had pinked up nicely over the western flats, Augustus went around to the back of the house and kicked th

He carried a bottle of whiskey, drinking directly from it and wiping the amber spill with his sleeve. My claws sank deep into the expensive leather of the couch. He was talking nonsense just to provoke me. I felt the anger burning in my veins like molten lead. Slowly, I reached into my pocket and withdrew the vial. Fed watching my move while Rowen continued drinking the whiskey absentmindedly of how exactly his life was going to get screwed up.

ZEUS The whiskey burns as it goes down, but I welcome it. It’s the only kind of warmth I trust. Everything else; people, promises, bonds, is fickle. A distraction. A liability. I sink deeper into the armchair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, watching the light fracture through it. The silence in my room is thick, like smoke after a war. The kind that settles after something destructive has already been set in motion. And it has. My plan.

Selin’s word echoed in his mind, slow and deliberate, each letter landing like a hammer on glass D… I… E… He refused to believe it, even as the words burned into his consciousness with every sip of whiskey. His grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles bled white, the crystal threatening to shatter in his palm. His jaw clenched so hard he could feel his molars grinding, the pressure building until he thought his skull might split. With a guttural roar that cut through the bar’s chatter, he drained the last of his drink and hurled the glass across the room.

He laughed. Damian nodded. With that everyone started to head to the bar to get their drinks in. Prue ordered for us. She came back with three different drinks. Surprisingly, she brought me a whiskey and coke which was not my normal drink. “Whiskey?” I asked curiously. “Although, he’s buying drinks, he’s limited the choice. It was this beer or gin.” I stuck my tongue out in disgust. Both Cleo and Prue burst out laughing. “Exactly, we know you hate gin. And need we say anything about beer.” Cleo responded.

POV JACKSON The whiskey in my glass was the only thing keeping the roar of my wolf at bay. Ever since Silas returned with that jagged mark on his face—a brand of shame that screamed Darlene’s defiance—the air in Silver Moon felt like it was laced with poison. My warriors moved with a hesitant caution, their eyes darting to me whenever I entered a room. They were waiting. Waiting to see how their Alpha would handle a "healer" who had found sanctuary in the arms of the North’s most dangerous savage.

ALEXANDER The sharp clink of glass echoed as I poured myself a generous amount of scotch. The liquid burned amber under the dim lights, catching the glint of the small vial of wolfsbane I pulled from my jacket. I twisted the cap, poured until the whiskey turned darker, and stirred the glass lazily. The poison wouldn’t kill me but it would give me the edge I needed. That fine line between clarity and chaos, the only place where the voices in my head went quiet.

I cocked the wine and looked at the brand name. ‘Landel’s whiskey.’ I let out a sad exhale. Realizing this was the Ashwood family's product. Why did that asshole never come back? I can't believe I actually had faith in an SOB like that. I sighed, pouring myself a glassful. I gulped it down slowly. While the wine preoccupied me, some chattering girls came flopping by. They shrieked at the sight of their new Luna. Yeah, Zephyr was crowned Alpha of the pack tonight before he disappeared to go to the mystery bathroom.

“Of course. You’re on the winning team now, sweetheart. That deserves a toast.” He strode toward a sleek bar cart in the corner, reached for a bottle of whiskey, and poured two glasses. Turning back, he held one out. “To new alliances,” he said, lifting his glass. I hesitated—just for a second—before clinking mine against his. “To new alliances.” The whiskey burned its way down my throat, spreading warmth through my chest. Coby, on the other hand, downed his in one smooth motion before refilling his glass.

Paul asked, trying to catch his breath. She looked at Paul and laughed even harder. She rested her hands on the bar to brace herself as amused tears ran down her face. Between her giggles, she finally answered the Alpha. "They call it The Heads of Moonshine." She said. It was obvious that Paul was feeling the effects of the strong drink almost immediately. He sniffed the glass. "Are you sure this is a human whiskey?" He asked. There was no way that any human could survive this alcohol. Emerald giggled, "I am sure, it is always hilarious to see werewolves try it the first time." She said continuing to giggle.