I can't help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I've become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.

I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door. "No," she said irritably. "And a purple shirt.

What are you?” I said irritably. “In the Serengeti, Ms. Lane, I would be the cheetah. I’m stronger, smarter, faster, and hungrier than everything else out there. And I don’t apologize to the gazelle when I take it down.

Do you think love just goes away? Pops out of existence when it becomes too painful or inconvenient, as if you never felt it?

We were watching Barrons. Why were you watching Barrons? Barrons needs watching.

Then you will simply have to see for yourself. Touch me, lass. Feel my ...sock." His silver gaze sizzled with challenge, as he unzipped his zipper. Uh-uh." She shook her head for added emphasis. Then find me a pair of trews that doona threaten to sever my manparts.

Barrons: "He got upset it wouldn't shut up and tore its head off." Mac: "The child?" I gasped