His gentleness twined another tendril around her heart, until she was so entangled in him, she knew she’d never break free. For the first time in her life, her wolf had chosen. And it had chosen this lone wolf. “You have me,” she whispered. All of me.

We fit, you and I,” he whispered looking into that haunting gaze. “Two broken pieces making a whole.

She crushed it, telling herself she was going to add Big in front of her Idiot tattoo.

... because he was going to marry her. “It is customary to ask,” she now said as she turned to watch him button up a black shirt over that chest she’d licked and sucked and kissed not long ago. “Why?” He shrugged. “I’m not giving you a choice.

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.

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

A faint smile that made every tiny hair on her body rise in quivering attention. "How fast can you run?" A wolf's question.