He laughed, and it raised goose-bumps on my arms. "Oh,ma petite ,ma petite , you are precious." Just what I wanted to hear. "So how are you getting here?" "My private jet." Of course, he had a private jet. "When can you be here?" "I will be there as soon as I can, my impatient flower." "I prefer ma petite to flower.

It would be nice if you’d stop almost killing me because you don’t want to screw other peo­ple.

I knew from the moment I heard you, the moment I saw the gun and realized that this lovely, petit woman was the executioner, that you would never die waiting for me to save you - that you would save yourself.

Just what I needed—a necromancer with an attitude. Oh, wait, I was a necromancer with an attitude.

Who hit you?" "Why, so you can go beat him up?" "One of the fringe benefits of being my human servant is my protection." "I don't need your protection, Jean-Claude." "He hurt you." "And I shoved a gun into his groin and made him tell me everything he knew," I said.

I'd made sure I knew his name. You shouldn't ask people to die for you if you don't at least know their name.

I wanted to wipe the grin off his face with a fist. I resisted the urge. Who says I have no self-control?