Honest to god, Clare, you act like the dress is more important than you being shot!” Of course it is! It’s a Versace, you idiot! Bring help! I’m going to save this dress at all costs.” - Sam to Clare

A knife!" I yelled, still brandishing my pillow. "Jim, I command you to get me a gelding knife. If this guy wants to be a stallion—" He dissolved in a flurry of white smoke even before I could finish the sentence. Ha! Victorious again!" Yeah," Jim drawled while I remade the bed and fluffed up my pillows. "Aisling, two; sexy, naked men who just want to give her the pleasure of a lifetime with no commitment, zero.

I tried to avoid looking at the dress full on, lest it burn out my retinas with its glittering hideousness.

Tully/Ysolde: "Brom?" I asked, releasing his head. He reeled backwards for a moment, his eyes huge. "Are you all right?" Brom: "I couldn't breathe," he said, giving my boobs a wary glance.

Do you want me to ride you like a rented mule, or do you prefer to be Mr. Missionary Position? I'm fine with wither, so it doesn't matter to me.

You taste of the cool water that hides deep in a stream. You taste of the night air, soft and scented and mysterious. The taste of you drives me wild. I want to be with you, be inside you, shout to the world that you are mine at the same time I want to keep you hidden where you will exist only for me. You make me feel invincible, little bird.

Those who play with fire should expect to be consumed by it.