It's always difficult to say goodbye, especially when one has spent a long time - literally years, in the case of a series - inside a character or two, suffering and celebrating with them.

I should start charging uncomfortable thoughts rent. Except what would they pay me in? Probably something even worse.

"So you're a dom, huh? Nice." I stabbed my pancakes again. "Kinky." "You're the one who ties people up, babe."

What do you say when someone takes on a really bad ass, murdering sucker for you? There just aren't words for that.

His eyebrows drew together. He was perilously close to unibrow; I guess nobody had held him down and administered a good plucking to the caterpillar climbing across his forehead.

Really, I scolded myself, you should have known that you'd end up in a stone dungeon with no facilities. That's how these things always end up, isn't it?

Death did not play favorites—He loved all equally. What you cannot escape, you must fight; what you cannot fight, you must endure . The god's voice—not quite words, just a thread of meaning laid in my receptive mind—