Kate Daniels, deadly swordmaster. Fear my twitching pinkie.

There is no such thing as privacy between a deity and his worshipper. There are no secrets, no glossed-over failures. Only promises kept and abandoned, sins committed and imagined, and raw emotion. How many of us are ready to have our lives judged? What would happen if we were found wanting?

A girl half my age swept by and slammed two giant tankard filled with beer on the table. Ragnvald held his up. I smashed my tankard against his. Beer splashed. We raised the tankard and pretended to take much bigger gulps than we did.

It was the kind of sword that would make a lifelong pacifist look for tall boots and a hat with feathers.

I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft." "I bet." He almost purred. I gulped.

Cats randomly refuse to follow orders to prove they can.

On the plus side, if he ever had to fight through a roomful of adolescent girls, he only needed to blink (his velvet brown eyes framed in embarassingly long lashes) a few times, and they would all faint.