He wanted to wake up every morning to her. Go to sleep with his body wrapped tightly around hers. He wanted her to have his child—his children. He knew he wanted to live out the rest of his life with her by his side and when he died, he wanted to die in her arms.

I made the decision fifteen years ago that you were my life. My everything. You were with me in my dreams my dark lover my friend and confidant.

Just remember who you belong to, Hannah. I wouldn't want to have to shoot anyone - or strangle you." She leaned over to kiss his shoulder. "Why am I the one to be strangled?" "It's a much more personal death.

What does kiciciyapi mitawa mean?" He kept his head on her breasts. "What?" "You called me kicicyapi mitawa. It sounded so beautiful. It wasn't Japanese. What was it?" "It's the voice of the Lakota. It would sound silly in English." He cupped her breast, his fingers moving lightly over her skin. His breath warm on her heart. "I want to know. It didn't sound silly when you said it. It sounded...beautiful. It made me feel beautiful. And loved." He kissed her breast. "I called you my heart. And you are.

I write for the love of writing. If I never published another book, I would still be writing stories.

Your name is Lily Whitney. You are the woman I want at my side night and day. I want you to be the mother of my children someday. I want you for my lover. I want you for the person I turn to when the world gets to be too much.

I am not going to say you are right because I could not take it if you smirked." "I do not smirk," Vikirnoff claimed. "Yes, you do. And I detest that after all these centuries, you are making sense. Frankly, its scary." "It is only that you are not making sense sunce you acquired a lifemate. I hope that does not happen to all men. It would be a shame." "Your sense of humor is not improving," Nicolae pointed out dryly. "I do not have a sense of humor." Vikirnoff answered. "I had not noticed," Nicolae teased.