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.

Why are you sad, Dorian?" He couldn't lie to her. "The leopard wants you to see it.

Is your skin this tone all over?" "Only one way you're going to discover the answer to that.

I almost let the best thing that ever happened to me slip away because I was hung up on ideas of what I ‘should’ want. Sometimes there is no ‘should,’ there’s only a single chance to grab on to happiness.

She blew out a breath between gritted teeth. “Sometimes I really want to”—a frustrated sound—“bite you!” He froze. “I might let you.” “I won’t do it if you’d enjoy it.

She was his and he was hers. They had under-the-skin privileges.

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