You’ll have to be my conscience.” He knew his flaws, and he knew the parts of him that were irrevocably broken. “Mine isn’t going to grow back.

I need you," he said to her, this woman who'd fought for her own right to live her life free of limits, "to build me some remote detonation devices." Amazing brown eyes shot with blue peering into his as she pressed her nose to his. "You always say the most romantic things.

I’ve had reports of this one being in the city, but no close-up pictures till now. He’s some kind of pretty. I could just take a bite out of that firm—

Do you have no sense of self-preservation?

You trying to make me crazy?” “Everyone needs a hobby.

There is a dark music in the screams of your enemies.” (Raphael)

For the first time in forever, he was stunned to silence. Not by her words, but by the tenderness in her hands, the worry in her eyes. He was an archangel. He’d been wounded far, far worse and shrugged it off. But then, there had been no woman with sun kissed by the sunset and eyes of storm gray to tear into him for daring to get himself hurt.