Werewolves? Oh please, just plain stupid. Who wants to get it on with a man ruled by his inner dog?

Get back on the bike and tell me where to go." "I'll tell you where to go," I muttered sourly, and he laughed.

Are you decent?" a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. "Nay, but we're clothed," Cian purred.

At the very last moment, just before its lips claimed hers, its grip on her face relaxed slightly and she did the only thing she could think of: She head-butted it. Snapped her head back, then forward again, and bashed it square in the face as hard as she could. So hard, in fact, that it made her woozy and gave her an instant migraine, making her wonder how Jean-Claude Van Damme always managed to coolly continue fighting after such a stunt. Obviously, movies lied.

You have splendid breasts, lass," he purred, cupping the plump mounds. "Splendid," he repeated stupidly, and she almost laughed. Men loved breasts any shape or form, they just loved them. -Drustan to Gwen

Try a rocket launcher. Think maybe you could manage to hit me with that?

My world we humans we’re just pawns on an immortal chessboard.