Raphael turned me over and looked at me, his face close to mine. "You and I will never be done.You're my mate." He kissed the corner of my mouth. I almost cried. "I stopped sleeping since you left," he said "I'll sleep for a couple of hours, wake up, you're not there." I closed my eyes. "I need an answer, Andrea," he said. "An answer?" "Mate. Yes or no." "Do you need to ask?" I whispered. "You're my mate.

The kind of eyes that jumped from a woman's dreams right into her morning and made trouble in the marriage bed.

Not only will you sleep with me, but you will say 'please.'" I stared at him, shocked. The smile widened. "You will say 'please' before and 'thank you' after." Nervous laughter bubbled up. "You've gone insane. All that peroxide in your hair finally did your brain in, Goldilocks.

How did the hearing go?” she asked. “We won, sort of,” Kaldar said. “We die at dawn.” “The court gave the Sheeriles twenty-four hours,” William corrected. “Yes, but ‘we die at dawn the day after tomorrow’ doesn’t sound nearly as dramatic.” “Does it have to be dramatic all the time?” Catherine murmured. “Of course. Everyone has a talent. Yours is crocheting and mine is making melodramatic statements.

Bad days, good days, ‘I’ll cut you if you look at me the wrong way’ days. I’ll take them all.

You said your cousin was a necromancer. You know how the natural necromancers operate?" They twisted the head off your favorite doll, stuffed a dead bird into it, and made it walk around. And then they were puzzled why you got upset.

Her imagination painted Georgie twenty years later, sitting in leg irons before some Broken psychiatrist. "Well, you see, it all started with bubbles.