The longer you live, the more mistakes you make. And the more sorrows you carry.

You have the power to tear me to pieces, to wound me so deep and true that I‘ll never recover.

This was the kind of job that made legends out of hunters. Of course, to be a legend, you generally had to be dead.

When she was like this, the wildness of her barely contained, it was hard to believe she'd come into his pack Silent, her emotions blockaded behind so much ice, it had infuriated his wolf.

So the big, bad, and able-to-mind-control angel thinks you’re his. As in ‘I don’t share my woman.

You,” she murmured, using both hands to undo his belt, “are the sexiest man I have ever met.” He made her think bad thoughts simply by breathing.

The scent of the sea, a wild turbulent storm, crashing into her mind. Elena, why is Dmitri naked?