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.

You are such a chicken. Bock. Bock. Bock." He refused to allow her very bad chicken impression to ruffle his feathers. He was above petty name-calling.

They called each other family and that’s what they were—sisters. Many people in the world had family of the heart, kin by choice rather than by blood, and hers had come along in her darkest hour and saved her life.

Then I guess we cannot miss the famous festival in New Orleans," he found himself saying, just to take the shadows from her eyes. She was silent a moment, her fingers twisting in the blanket. "Do you mean it, Gregori? We can go?" "You know how much I love crowds of humans," he said, straight-faced. She laughed at him. "They don't bite." "I do," he said, the words low and soft, his silver gaze at once possessive.

Torture can be a two edged sword.

He rarely smoked, but once in a while, like now, when his world had been shaken, his woman nearly killed in front of his eyes, and he’d watched a house consume a man and spit him out, he figured a drag or two were appropriate.

You're the kind of man my mother warned me about.