He wasn't handsome. That was too calm a word. He was intensely masculine. He was sexual. He attracted.

Moth to a flame I follow.

I heard there are no male sidhe-seers." Where did you hear that?" Around." And which one of those are you in doubt about Ms. Lane?" Which one of what?" Whether I see the Fae, or whether I'm a man. I believe I've laid your mind to rest on the former; shall I relieve it on the latter?" He reached for his belt. Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "You're a leftie, Barrons." Touche, Ms. Lane," he murmered.

Could words and symbols wield such power? Could mere scribblings on parchment unmake a person's moral fiber? Weren't we made of sterner stuff?

Do you think a woman can give a man everything while still withholding her heart? We are not made that way! - Fiona

Caring is love. And love fights! Love doesn't look for the path of least resistance.

He gives me a look that says, “Dude, if I knew that do you think I’d have enlisted your puny help?” I snicker. “Something funny here.” “You. All prickly and pissed ’cause there’s something you don’t know. Got to call on the megaservices of the Mega.” “Ever occur to you I’m using you for reasons your inferior human brain can’t begin to understand.