You chose a warrior, remember?” “As you chose an archangel.

Fathers and mothers,” she found herself saying, “leave their mark, no matter if we’ve known them a lifetime or only a day.

I think Illium can take care of himself.” “Not if he keeps flirting with you.” A fine, almost elegant tendril of heat, champagne and sunshine, decadence in the light. “Raphael’s not the sharing kind.

While Dmitri, as the leader of Raphael’s Seven, could not accept such a weakness, the mortal he’d once been, the one who had loved a woman with a wide mouth and eyes of slanted brown . . . that man understood what it was to love so deeply it was a kind of beautiful madness.

How’s Her Royal Bitchiness?” “Alive.” “Pity.

But you, you’ve always been the rain, the wind, inside my mind. I taste you when I sleep, when I wake, when I breathe.

Have you ever made her angry?" If the cop said that he and his wife lived in a state of constant connubial bliss, Andrew decided he'd have full cause to throw a punch. Max raised an eyebrow. "Sure, I'm human." He slid the phone into the pocket of his suit pants and rose to his feet with a distinctly amused glint in his eyes. "Making up is the un part, in case you haven't figured that out yet.