V jerked back to the present. And for some reason didn't lie. "I'm thinking about my tattoos." "When did you get them?" "Almost three centuries ago." She whistled. "God, you live that long?" "Longer. Assuming I don't get cracked dead in a fight and you fool humans don't blow up the planet, I'll be breathing for another seven hundred years.

All of us are taking the night off," Wrath said abruptly. "We need some regroup time." Rhage snorted from across the table. "You're not going to make us play Monopoly again, are you?" Yup." A collective groan rose up from the Brotherhood, one that Wrath ignored. "Right after dinner.

Man, life was complicated. But the truth was simple. He was her home. He was where she belonged.

Praying's not going to help. Too late for that, Jane...I gave you a chance to have it on your terms. Now we'll do this on mine

Unfortunately, beer was only a short-term answer. And head transplants had yet to be approved by the FDA.

The Old Language really was beautiful, Blay thought. Staring at the symbols, for one brief, ridiculous moment he imagined his own name across Qhuinn's shoulders, carved into that smooth skin in the manner of the mating ritual. Never going to happen. They were destined to be best friends...which, compared to strangers, was something huge. Compared to lovers? It was the cold side of a locked door.

Zsadist: I didn't make up the rules of this scenario Wrath: You'll die if you go by yourself. Zsadist: Well... I'm kind of ready to get off the ride. Phury felt his skin get tight all over.