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.

I looked at him. "You really need to work on your threats. I can't tell if you're threatening me or inviting me for tea.

All men are liars. All women are liars, too.

If my luck held, it wouldn't be a handsome Greek demigod looking for the love of his life or at least his love of a couple of hours.

Hold your horses. I'm coming."... "From where I'm standing you're just breathing laboriously." The snow swam out of focus. "Breathing hard. Are you coming or just breathing hard. You've got to get your one-liners straight.

Look, he isn’t even concerned.” I poured the tea. “He’s concerned, Mother. He just doesn’t panic, because he’s in charge and if he panics, everybody else will panic.” “I can jog around the room pretending to scream if you would like,” Jim offered.

It's awful to be rich and mind-boggingly handsome and have women fawn over you. My heart bleeds for you. Poor dear, how do you manage?