What the—Have you been crying?" Tohrment demanded. "Are you all right? Dear God, is it the baby?" "Tohr, relax. I'm a female, I cry at matings. It's in the job description." There was the sound of a kiss. "I just don't want anything to upset you, leelan." 'Then tell me the brothers are ready." "We are." "Good. I'll bring her out." "Leelan ? " "What?" There were low words spoken in their beautiful language. "Yes, Tohr," Wellsie whispered. "And after two hundred years, I'd mate you again. In spite of the fact that you snore and you leave your weapons all over our bedroom.

No, you've got it all wrong, John." Reading his emotions, she shook her head. "You're not half the male you could be because of what was done to you. You're twice what anyone else is because you survived.

It was the wife, John thought. And she was giving this tough guy a tongue-lashing. And the man was taking it. "Okay. I love you. Bye." Tohrment flipped the phone closed and put it in his pocket. When he focused on John again, he clearly respected his wife enough not to roll his eyes and make some macho, shithead comment about pesky women.

“Doesn't have to be easy to be right.” In that case, we're meant for each other.

That's the problem with white horses. You have to pay for them yourself or you'll always be using someone else's reins.

End of the day, the quick and the dead are the same. Everyone's just looking for home.

Trust me, true?" Butch barked a laugh. "Last time you said that i ended up with a vampire cocktail, remember?