Otherwise, three little words would have leaked from his mouth. And undoubtedly doomed him in ways he couldn’t even guess at. Bad time. Bad place. For that kind of thing. Forever.

Her perfume or soap or whatever it was reminded him of sandalwood and something else. Oh, right...orgasms.

The smile he gave her was wistful, just a little lift to his mouth. "You are a fighter." ""Yes. Always. And sometimes I'm a whole army.

There came a time in everyone’s life when they realized that in spite of how hard they’d been running from themselves, everywhere they went, there they were: Addictions and compulsions were nothing but marching bands of distraction, masking truths that were unpleasant, but ultimately undeniable.

The one good thing about the Angels was they always colored within the lines. They had to. Suckers.

He tasted each one of them. The raw power and majesty of Wrath. The vast strength of Rhage. The burning, protective loyalty of Phury. The cold savagery of Zsadist. The sharp cunning of Vishous.

We don’t have to talk about Zsadist. That’s okay. He’s the most interesting part of me.