I can't give you the white picket fence, and if I did, you'd set it on fire.

What happened to the alpha-wolf?" "LEGOs." "Legos?" It sounded Greek but I couldn't recall anything mythological with that name. Wasn't it an island? "He was carrying a load of laundry into the basement and tripped on the old set of LEGOs his kids left on the stairs. Broke two ribs and an ankle.

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.

Oh no, is it naked time?

I can make some calls. There is a guy. Dagfinn Heyerdahl. He used to be with Norse Heritage Foundation." Norse Heritage Foundation wasn't so much about heritage as it was about viking, in the most cliché sense of the world. They drank huge quantities of beer, they brawled, and they wore horned helmets despite all historical evidence to the contrary. "Used to be?" Curran asked. "They kicked him out for being drunk and violent." Curran blinked. "The Norse Heritage?" "Mhm." "Don't you have to be drunk and violent just to get in?" he asked. "Just how disorderly did he get?

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.

He snarled. I showed him my teeth. A rolled-up newspaper landed on my head and then on Jim’s. “None of that in my house!” Oh my gods. The alpha of Clan Cat just got smacked with a rolled-up newspaper.