She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on his mouth. Name. He wanted her name. She had to think about it for a second before she remembered. Great. She must have hit her head. Which, duh, explained the headache.

Horseman. I know you were born back when women were thought of as little more than brood mares and slaves, but it's the twenty-first century, and we can do anything a man does.

leave it to him to get messed up with deaths little girl

Raynor slapped her so hard her teeth rattled and eyes stung, but she refused to react except to say saucily, "You must have heard how I like foreplay." "I hope you like it a lot, because with your mouth, you'll be getting it nonstop." "Goody," she said dryly. "Because I so love a man who needs to prove his masculinity by beating on women. Do you hit children and kick cats, too?

I wonder what disgusts you more, the fact that I’m a demon, or the fact that when I touch you, it doesn’t matter.

I feel like I’m finally whole. I’m five thousand years old,” he rasped. “But the day you found me in the woods, that’s when my life started.

I'll listen to you, but you need to treat me with a little respect. Because it doesn't sound like I'm a pawn. Sounds like I'm more of a queen." A vein in his temple began to throb, and she grew bolder, the sense of power emanating from the mark on her chest filing her with the mettle she'd lost after the break-in two years ago. Lowering her voice to a tense whisper, she nipped his earlobe. "Checkmate.