Some women,” Dahariel said in that same hard tone devoid of any hint of humanity, “get under a man’s skin until digging them out makes you bleed.

Do tell. It might be entertaining to see who gets to you first.” “Excuse me if entertaining you isn’t at the top of my agenda.

To be a legend, you generally had to be dead.

Jesus H. Christ. I have new respect for the female of the species suddenly.

Heart of my heart, that’s who you are, Adria Morgan. Chosen and forever.” Picking her hand off his cheek, he pressed a lingering kiss to the palm before placing it over the strong, steady rhythm of that very organ. “Wolf and man, you own every part of me.

You’re in my every breath and every thought, intertwined so deep inside me that love’s not a strong enough word—you have my devotion, your name branded on my soul, my wolf yours to command. A hundred years? It’ll never be enough. I want eternity.

You," she managed to say hoarsely," are a very bad kitty cat.