My mother," he said, "has invited us to a ball." Elena pulled a blade from one of the butter-soft forearm sheaths that had been a gift from Raphael. "Excuse me while I stab myself in the eyes-and disembowel myself while I'm at it.

You refused to fall in love with anyone else, Dmitri.” A whisper with the impact of a gun-shot. “So I had to come back for you . . . husband.

Death holds no allure for me, Elena.” The power of him cut against his skin, a cold white fire. “Not when I have yet to sate my hunger for you.

I wouldn't wish my consort to suffer ennui.

He couldn’t say the words, had spent too long in Silence, but he’d learned other ways to speak. Taking the paperweight she’d knocked off her desk out of his pocket, he put it in her hands. “It’s fixed. As long as you don’t mind more than a few scars.

You almost died.” “But you brought me back.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I always knew you were there. Death didn't have a chance against the Wall.

Sophia got up, taking one last look at the extraordinary daughter Councilor Nikita Duncan had borne.