The running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street; mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.

And there you have it...if I knew that I could only have a few nights in that man's arms or nothing, I would take those magic nights and use them to keep me warm for the rest of my life.

Lies are horny little buggers, they breed like rabbits and bound around just as insanely and then you have to try to keep track of them.

I'm not good, Mac. Never have been.' What-true confession time? my eyes tease. Don't need it. 'I want what I want and I take it.' Is he warning me? What could he possibly threaten me with now? 'There's nothing I can't live with. Only things I won't live without.

Fear and doubt are major stampeders.

If V’lane were a signpost, it would read Abandon All Personal Will, Ye Who Tread Here.

Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?