I gave him a smile. I was aiming for sweet, but he turned a shade paler and scooted a bit farther from me. Note to self: work more on sweet and less on psycho-killer.

Secret to what?" "Secret to shutting you up," he said. "I just have to beat you till you're half-dead, then give you chicken soup and"--he raised his hands--"blessed silence.

Screwy," I said. "Is that a medical term?" "Of course.

Why were you in a vehicle with Kate, alone? What were you wearing? What was she wearing? How long were you there? Did you do something or did you talk? What was the nature of your discussion? Could this trip have been avoided?" I rubbed my face. "So basically you're scared that His Lordship might get his panties in a bunch?" "That's one way to put it.

True strength isn’t in killing—or ignoring—your opponent, it’s in having the will to shield those who need your protection.

Big bad merc, down with a basic hip toss. In your place I'd be blushing.

No matter what happens, you will always be Pack. Because you have that loyalty and restraint. Not human, not whatever, but Kate. Unique and different, but not separate.