Man, it was a good thing vampires didn't get cancer. Lately he'd been chain-smoking like a felon.

I feel as though I am shelved. That I have been given the words to the story of my life, but that I have remained largely unread.

Saxton was indeed clear on things: Blay was still in love with Qhuinn— and probably always would be. “Why?” he said to his lover. “Because I want you for however long I have you.

Butch nodded as if he knew exactly what was doing. "Like I said, my man, it's whatever. You and me? Same as always, no matter who you screw. Although… if you're into sheep, that would be tough. Don't know if I could handle that.

When I want you to beg, I'll tell you.

The thread of will-they-or-won't-they was the real driver of every word and glance and shift of body. So...this was a date, Blay thought. A subtextual negotiation slipcovered in talk of books read and music enjoyed.

Closing his eyes, he sent up a prayer to anyone who was listening, asking please, for God's sake, stop sending him signals that they were right for each other. He'd read that book, seen the movie, bought the soundtrack, the DVD, the T-shirt, the mug, the bobble-head, and the insider's guide. He knew every reason they could have been lock and key. But just as he was aware of all that aligned them, he was even clearer on how they were damned to be ever apart.