What is he doing here?" Curran growled. "He's Roland's Warlord. He's here for me." He was here for the woman who had broken his master's blade. "Tough luck. You're mine.

I don't know if you heard, but I kind of run this place.

He gave an impression of coiled power, a contained violence that if released, would explode with terrifying intensity.

Some men got excited by white lace and a translucent negligee. My love muffin got excited by a woman dressed to murder. There was probably something deeply twisted about that. Lucky for me, negligees were never my thing.

The kid was so handsome, he almost looked unreal.

Runes, runes, runes... Runes. An inverted Algiz rune. The caption next to it said “Chernobog.” The Black God. Right. Of course, it wouldn’t be Chernobog, God of Morning Dew on the Rose Petals, but a woman could always hope.

It could be worse," he said finally. "Efrenia married an arsonist. Jake's wife is a kleptomaniac. I suppose, a psychopathic spree killer isn't that odd of a choice, considering.