And then Mircea finally let me down, only to get his hands inside the coat and push me against the wall. "I'm dirty," I protested. He waggled his eyebrows. "Promise?" "Mircea!" I laughed in spite of myself.

I’m driving,” Louis-Cesare said, sliding into the low seat as easily as if he’d done it a hundred times. “You’re drunk.” I wished. “I had all of two beers, mostly for the water content.” “If you needed water, why didn’t you drink water?” “I don’t like water.

He smiled at that, and then his gaze shifted to a spot over my shoulder and it faded. 'These doubts wouldn’t have anything to do with the company you’re keeping of late, would they?' I didn’t get a chance to answer before the shop door was thrown open and a furious war mage stomped in. Pritkin spotted me and his eyes narrowed. 'You shaved my legs?!' Mircea looked at me and folded his arms across his chest. I looked from one unhappy face to the other and suddenly remembered that I had somewhere else to be.

But you were Mine. My child. And I would not give you up.

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

I have to fix this,” I told him, as clearly and calmly as I could. “If you want to help me, then help me. Don’t shield me, don’t protect me, don’t bury me alive. Help me .

Great. I'd been dumped in Hell's waiting room.