I turned over, and those big hands got to work on my back. I stifled a whimper in the pillow, because Marco's idea of a massage bore no resemblance whatsoever to the relaxing spa variety. There was no lavender oil, no soothing music, no hot towels. Just an all-out assault on cramped muscles, until they cowered in surrender and turned to Jell-O.

I left it with a warmer,” he said drily. Because war mages ate their fried chicken frozen to the ground and they liked it.

If I'm not supposed to be awake, why are you here?" I mumbled. "To be the little spoon.

I barely heard him, I was too busy watching Pritkin, who had slumped over with his head on the sofa arm, shoulders shaking helplessly, and what looked suspiciously like tears leaking out from under his closed eyes. "Not that bad," he muttered, and then he was off again.

Take them off!” I told him, grabbing the front of his jeans. “Take everything off!” “I’m trying!” “Try harder!

The Lord Protector and his hair got off the elevator.

Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.