A naked blade sheathed in velvet, that was Raphael's voice.

That works fine for me . . . Sienna Lauren Snow.

Most of those men don’t want to sleep with you,” he said in blunt rebuttal. “I reserve the right to introduce my fist to the faces of the ones who do.

Truth was a tool. It should never simply be said. No, it had to be bent, twisted, colored, until it became a weapon.

Why is it”—she shivered as he kissed the top of her spine, went lower—“that I always end up naked while you remain dressed?” A husky masculine chuckle, his lips moving over her shoulder, his hands on her hips. “Because I'm a smart man.

Yes.” She smiled, liking the word. “What I feel like right now—I’d compare it to waking from a dream and seeing the real world. It’s a beautiful place, but it also has darkness. If you try to eradicate that darkness, you also destroy the light.” Pain for the future of her people tightened her heart.

"We die," she said, "we die together. That's the deal."