Christ, don't you ever knock? It's Lassiter. L-A-S-S-I-T-E-R. How is it possible you're still getting me confused with someone else? Do I need a nametag?

You are perfect the way you are." Blay's voice was strong. "There is nothing wrong with who and what you have always been. I'm proud of you. And I love you. Now ... and always." Qhuinn's vision got wavy. Hard-core. "I'm proud of you. And I love you," Blay repeated. "Always. Forget about your old family ... you have me now. I am your family.

The trainee knew he should leave, but he was unable to look away. He'd never seen anything snap out so fast or strike so hard as the male's fists. Obviously, the rumours about the instructor were all true. He was a flat-out killer. With a metal clank, a door opened at the other end of the gym, and the sound of a newborn's cries echoed up into the high ceiling. The warrior stopped in midpunch and wheeled around as a lovely female carrying young in a pink blanket came over to him. His face softened, positively melted.

I miss you.…” He stroked the indentation of the gown where her waist would have been—should have been. “I miss you so much.

Hey, no offense, but do you mind if you put both your palms where I can see ’em?

That's where you come in. I want into that guy's mind, and you need to tell me how to do it." Ad shrugged. "Personally, I'd just use a hacksaw, but—" "There are potential consequences and side effects," Eddie said carefully. "Like what?" "Well, worst case... he could end up like Adrian.

Please, if you would," the butler said, "no throwing the linens. Peaches, anyone?" -Fritz