I wanted to imprint his touch, his taste, even the scent of him so solidly inside me that no one could take them away from me.

Well, well,” he said. “Five days a week isn’t enough of me? Had to give me an evening, too?

Being nice? He’s being horny.

I didn’t accept your sacrifice. I turned it down.” I felt a small Oh form at my mouth, but it never quite made it past my lips. “Are you saying you gave up getting a human body for me?

As in, I wouldn't know normal if it marched up and poked me in the eye.

Did they look like anyone we know? For example… a cross between Pippi Longstocking and the Wicked Witch of the West would obviously give us Marcie Millar

Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" "If I did?