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.

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.

If you lust after someone and have an absurd and overwhelming need to protect them, then the best way to deal with the situation is to marry the person.

She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan.

I hate to tell you, dragon, but that's an integral part of the whole usiness," he whispered. "If you're afraid to touch me then we're not going to get very far." She lifted her head to look at him. "I thought I could lie back and let you ravish me," she said with complete honesty. He shook his head, the smile hovering around his lips, his eyes intent. "This is a cooperative effort, my love. You have to do your part.

I want your innocence. I want your blind, unquestioning devotion to your father, your acceptance of who and what he is. I want you to look at me the way you look at him, knowing the worst. I want you to trust me, even when your brain tells you you shouldn't, I want you to ignore common sense and your lifelong need to protect yourself. I want you to give yourself to me, body and soul.

Do I make you nervous, Madame Lambert?” “No. I just prefer to keep my distance.” “Evil isn’t contagious.” “I thought you said you weren’t the most evil man in the world?” “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m a good man.” “I don’t think anyone would argue with that.