In the Old Language, she hissed, “If any harm shall befall him, I will come after you, and find you where you sleep. I do not care where you lay your head or who with, my vengeance shall rain upon you until you drown.” That last word was drawn out, until its syllable was lost in more growling. Dead silence. Until Doc Jane said dryly, “Annnnd this is why they say the female of the species is more dangerous than the male.

The stories just keep showing up in my head - and I really hope they keep it up! I write what I'm told, and as long as I do that, I don't have any problems with writer's block or anything. The issues come only when I try to force the story or the people in it to do things they don't want to. As a control freak, it's funny that I've learned to be so comfortable with being out of control in what is arguably one of the most important areas of my life!

Falling into ruin was a bit like falling in love: Both descents stripped you bare and left you as you were at your core. And both endings are equally painful.

As much as we have free choice, absolute destiny is immutable. What is meant to happen does, through one measure or another.

Souls were the same. They, too, had useless baggage that impeded their proper performance, these annoying, holier-than-thou bits dangling like an appendix waiting for infection. Faith and hope and love...prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude...all this useless clutter just packed too much damn morality into the heart, getting in the way of the soul's innate desire for malignancy.

Yeah.” Rhage sighed. “All I want is one good female. But I guess I’ll settle for quantity until I find her. Life just sucks, doesn’t it?

She was seriously staring. Which was what you did when you got a gander at a man who is hung like a Louisville Slugger.