As far as he was concerned, there were only two good positions for a human. A female on her back. And a male facedown not breathing.

When you were the son of evil, there was little you couldn't do, own, or kill, and yet her mortal self was an elusive trophy he could touch, but not put on his shelf. This made her rare. This made her precious. This made him...love her.

I feel like I am wlaking down into a porn movie" V mutteres as they took the steps with care. "Wouldn't that require more black candles for you", Zsadist cracked.

I love you. And I'm going to keep loving you even after you don't know I exist.

you told me I could beat him. You promised.

I think you and he need to talk. And once you do, I won’t have to worry about being jumped like a felon again.” Blay frowned. “He and I have nothing to say to each other—” “With all due respect, the ligature marks around my neck would suggest otherwise.

It was a universal truth among males that anytime you saw a guy get it in the nuts, you experienced a shot of phantom pain in your own croquet set. As Lassiter crouched beside the Brother’s pretzel of a body, he was feeling a little nauseous himself, and he took a moment to cup what hung between his legs—just to reassure the boys downstairs that however much of an iconoclast he was, some things were sacred.