He'd woken up after flying from Boston to Montana to find his da cooking breakfast for them: sausage and pancakes shaped like deer. It wasn't just any deer, either - they looked like Bambi from the disney cartoon. Charles didn't want to know how his father had managed that

For Adam, screwed-up bonding thing or not, I’d wait forever. “Really?” he asked in a tone I’d never heard from him before. Softer. Vulnerable. Adam didn’t do vulnerable. “Really what?” I asked. “Despite the way our bond scares you, despite the way someone in the pack played you, you’d still have me?” He'd been listening to my thoughts. This time it didn't bother me. “Adam,” I told him, “I’d walk barefoot over hot coals for you.

Evil must always be fought.

What do you mean?” Leslie’s voice was cool, as if she questioned witches who were flat on their backs being threatened by werewolves every day.

He sighed. " I don't think an apology will do, Mercy. Because an apology implies that you wouldn't do it again. And, under the circumstances, you wouldn't do anything differently, would you?" "No.

Mine, ... Mine is what she is.

Cheeses crusty, got all musty, got damp on the stone of a peach.