Raphael's pleasure, his kiss, sent her over a second time....and it wasn't until they both stirred again that Raphael reached down and undid the strap of her knife sheath, putting it and the knife on the bedside table. "Beautiful as this sheath is," he said, touching the leather, "I much prefer the one which holds my blade.

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.

No one has ever been able to pinpoint the trigger." "But?" "But it is legend that ambrosia only rises when-" She held her breath. "- an archangel loves true.

Love is the greatest form of loyalty, one that places happiness of the beloved over the lover.

If this is death, Guild Hunter,he thought to his mortal as angelfire scored through his bones and touched his heart, then I will see you on the other side.

A life is not a waste of time

Raphael lifted a finger, tracing it over her cheekbone. She flinched. Not because he was hurting her. The opposite. The places he touched ... it was as if he had a direct line to the hottest, most feminine part of her. A single stroke and she was embarrassingly damp. But she refused to pull away, refused to give in." (page 33 , Gollancz edition)