The undead did not love, but they remembered love with a savage loyalty.

It’s a cat. Boy, you couldn’t slip anything past me tonight.

With a gentle pressure, our lips met. His hands slipped more firmly about me, and I held myself back, not afraid, but wanting to feel everything slowly as I leaned in, tasting the wine on him, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into mine, breathing in our scents that were mingling and changing with the warmth. My hands rose to find his hair, and I relaxed into him as the silky strands brushed through my fingers. I wanted more, and I leaned into him as our lips moved against each other.

Rachel,” came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. “Don’t touch Trenton,” he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, “or I’m going to have to come down there…and smack you around.

What was it with me and organized beatings, anyway?

The demon's eyes flicked to mine, his smile widening. "This is Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos's room," he said, and my breath caught. "Delightful, just delightful! What are you doing in Nicky's room, Rachel? Ooooh, he summoned you to the West Coast, didn't he? Did you kill him? Good for you for taking care of that little problem! I should give you a bunny. Where is he? Stuffed in a closet?" ~ Algaliarept, Black Magic Sanction, Kim Harrison

Big lots,' I said, seeing the eighty-year-old oaks and shady lawns. The houses were set way back and had iron fences and stone drives. The harder to hear your neighbors scream, my dear,' was David’s answer, and I sent my head up and down in agreement.