Quick question. Does this magical skill with gray matter come with a total lack of compunction for your kind, or is it just you who were born without a conscience? V: I beg your pardon?

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

He was having an illicit affair... with his own mate.

He didn't say anything. Didn't try any of the hugging bullshit, either, which was just as well. Instead, he placed a wooden case next to Tohr on the bed, exhaled some Turkish smoke, and went back for the exit like he couldn't wait to get out of the room. Except he stopped before he left, "I gotchu, my brother," he said to the door. "I know, V. You always have. ~Vishous and Tohrment Lover Reborn

Giving in to a shrill instinct, she ran around the side of the building. Butch was marching toward his car as if he were carrying an unstable load, and she rushed to catch up with them. “Wait. I need to ask him a question.” “You want to know his shoe size or something?” Butch snapped. “Fourteen,” Wrath drawled. “I’ll remember that at Christmas, asshole.

After all, tragedy didn't discriminate, so everyone was subject to the same whims of fate.

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.