You do realize you just insulted me, right?" "How so?" "You implied that I can't protect her or my people." I looked at him. "That's not at all what I meant." "Apologize and I'll let it go." I kept my hands firmly on the iron rail before me. Grabbing the weight bar and walloping the Beast Lord upside the head wouldn't be the best diplomatic move. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty." There. I was civil. It almost killed me.

...you expect me to fall on my back with my legs spread." "Not necessarily. ... You can fall on your hands and knees if you prefer. Or against the wall. Or on the kitchen counter. I suppose I might let you be on top, if you make it worth my while.

You know," she said, stirring her tea, "the fastest way to get him off your back is to sleep with him. And tell him you love him. Preferably while in bed." I smirked and the tea almost came out of my nose. "He'd run like he was on fire.

You're screening your calls?" "Why not? It saves me from conversations with idiots." "Is that an insult?" His voice dropped into a deep growl. "You're not an idiot," I told him. "You're just a deadly psychopath with a god complex.(...)

What do you do to your hair?" "Dust, hair gel, and a little gun oil." "Ever thought of patenting the recipe?" "No.

Why couldn't she have gotten another Edger or some dimwit from the Broken for a passenger? No, she got Lord Leather Pants here.

Would you like to assist me with my choice of underwear as well?” My sarcasm whistled right over his head. “I would be delighted. While I’d love to see you in a balconette bra, I’m afraid for this particular occasion I would have to go with a foam-lined seamless due to the tight fit of the garment across your breasts . . . Perhaps I could come over and review what you have available . . .