Give me an opportunity to fail," Saiman said. "I promise my corpse won't interrupt your 'I told you so' speech.

In death, they all looked the same. This morning they spoke, they breathed, they kissed their loved ones good-bye. And now they lay dead. Gone forever.

Why is everyone calling me Consort?" "Jim designated you as Consort in official papers. You don't want to be called Mate, calling you Alpha is confusing, and 'Beast Lady' makes people laugh.

A ghastly attempt at a smile, sure to send any normal person to a therapist.

An evil spark flared in his eyes. "Trade: raccoon for some answers.

How did the hearing go?” she asked. “We won, sort of,” Kaldar said. “We die at dawn.” “The court gave the Sheeriles twenty-four hours,” William corrected. “Yes, but ‘we die at dawn the day after tomorrow’ doesn’t sound nearly as dramatic.” “Does it have to be dramatic all the time?” Catherine murmured. “Of course. Everyone has a talent. Yours is crocheting and mine is making melodramatic statements.

I dived for it, caught it three inches above the cement, and found myself face-to-face with the salamander. Ruby-red eyes regarded me with mild curiosity, black lips parted, and a long, spiderweb-thin filament of a tongue slithered from the salamander’s mouth and kissed the sphere’s glass in the reflection of my nose. Hi, I love you, too.