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

Then her eyes narrowed. The sun was spilling in the window behind her and Dageus's eyes were golden, dappled with darker flecks. Smoky and sensual, fringed by thick dark lashes, but gold nonetheless. "What is with your eyes?" she exclaimed. "Is it part of being a Druid?" "What color are they?" he asked warily. "Gold." He flashed her another unguarded smile. It was like basking in the sun, she thought, tracing her fingers over his beard-shadowed jaw, smiling helplessly back.

I'd never been turned on by the Ken doll—even before I looked down his pants and saw what was missing.

If you're trying to force the story to be a straight up romance, it's going to be weird for you.

Safety is a fence, and fences are for sheep.

Nuns? They'd take one look at Barrons and decide the devil himself had come knockng. He not only looked dangerous, he emanated something that made even me feel like crossing myself sometimes, and I'm not religious.

I began peering into the corners of the room, making sure all the shadows were cast by objects and obeying known laws of physics.