She tried to allow herself only one biting remark an hour, and she had already overstepped her allowance.

He pulled her back, off balance so that she fell against him, and he took her face in his two hands and held it very still while his eyes looked down into hers. Somber, truthful, painfully honest. "I love you, Chloe," he said. "Which is the most dangerous thing I could do.

She raised her head finally. He looked the same, but then, he always did. She'd seem him kill twice, and he betrayed no reaction at all. He was a monster, not even human. But he was her monster.

If this were a different time, a different place, I would take you to bed with me and make love to you for days.

Who shot you?" For a moment he looked annoyed. "I fail to see what that's got to do with anything. Reading assures me that anyone who's ever met me would have reason to shoot me, so I must admit with all candor that I have no idea. Was it you?" "If I'd shot you I wouldn't have missed," she said. "Was that wishful thinking or are you in fact a practiced shot?" "Desire would have made up for lack of expertise.

She tried to allow herself only one biting remark an hour, and she had already overstepped her allowance.

She froze. He reached up and took her hand in his, pulling the knife away, making her drop it on the floor. "Show me how much you hate me," he whispered against her mouth. "Prove it to me.