It was the sort of bone deep emotion that made him want to hold her tighter with one hand, and draw a sword against the world with the other.

How could I possibly keep my cool while getting sweaty with him? What if I screamed out something horrifying, like "I love you?" What if I had an epileptic attack and started drooling or spitting right in the middle of things?

That’s right, you nasty little vixen, bite me harder." Ian urged.

Good. If you checked your e-mail every five minutes, or keep texting and Tweeting in the middle of our conversation, I might snap your neck out of sheer principle.

It must be important or he wouldn't dare disturb me now,” he muttered. Then he drew away to look at me. “If it's not, I'll kill him and return to you directly.

There’s less violence in my world compared to yours,” she insisted. Spade sighed. “No, darling. There are only different reasons for it.

Cat, hmmm? From where I sit you look more like a Kitten." My head jerked around and I shot him an annoyed look. Oh, I was going to enjoy this, all right. "It's Cat," I repeated firmly. "Cat Raven." "Whatever you say, Kitten Tweedy.