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.

Oh my God! I'm crushing an angel. Let me up!

You want to play? Come find me angel boy.

No, Nathan, no." She wrapped his face in her hands. "I just need you--all of you--so much that I'm going crazy. I need your laugh. I need your company. I need you to sleep beside me and I need you to wake when I wake. I need you with everything in me.

If that happens to us," she whispered, unable to wrap her mind around the idea of a life so long and so full of tragedy, "if we feel ourselves, who we are together, becoming lost in time, I don't want to Sleep. I want to say good-bye when I'm still me and you're still you.

Do you think you have the right to give me orders now?" The Archangel of New York, a creature so lethal that part of her feared him even now, lifted the hair off her nape, brushed his lips across her skin. "Of course. You are mine." No hint of humor, nothing but stark possession. "I don't think you've quite got the hang of this true love thing.

Sentinel meeting tonight,” Ria told her. “At Lucas's place.” “Time?” ... “Seven. Sascha's doing dinner.” “God save us all.” Sascha had decided she liked cooking. Unfortunately, cooking didn't like her back.