What was said about him, what the females needed to believe about him, was just oral masturbation for mouths that needed to be otherwise occupied.

Then how about we start with a shower," he said in the kind of deep voice that made her consider the value of cleanliness.

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.

The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the world series?" "The New York Yankees," Butch replied.

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.

A book unopened alters not the ink on it's pages

I don't do farm animals. Can't stand hay in your leathers? Or wool in my teeth.