Pack is built on the bonds of family, of mating, of love. You come first. You always will.

You can run,” Dorian said in a neutral tone that did nothing to lessen the intensity of his expression, “but sooner or later, you run out of places to run to.

I'm the hunter," Elena reminded him. "I should go first." "Of course you may go first. When I am dead.

Her voice trembled. "I’m so glad you’re mine. I won’t ever let you go." This time, it was Kaleb who said, "I know," devastated at being so wanted. "You are just a little possessive."

Do you think you have the right to give me orders now?" The Archangel of New York, a creature so lethal that part of her feared him even now, lifted the hair off her nape, brushed his lips across her skin. "Of course. You are mine." No hint of humor, nothing but stark possession. "I don't think you've quite got the hang of this true love thing.

"Make me forget." A whisper, a plea. Not giving her what she wanted wasn't even an option. He switched their positions so she was under him. "Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage?" She wiped away her tears. "Please do." "Ask nice." "Why don't I make you angry instead? That gets me kissed a lot."

Truth was a tool. It should never simply be said. No, it had to be bent, twisted, colored, until it became a weapon.