What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.

My will broke at the sound of his voice, and my head turned with as much inevitability as a sunflower turning its face to the sun.

Anna looked at Brother Wolf. ‘I’d like to see someone try to put a radio control collar on Charles. It might be fun to watch on YouTube.

We’d spent years as adversaries, two predators sharing territory and a certain, unwelcome attraction. Somehow, during all those years I spent outwardly acquiescing to his demands while making sure I held my own, I’d won his respect. I’d had werewolves love me and hate me, but I’d never had one respect me before. Not even Samuel. Adam respected me enough to act on my suspicions. It meant a lot.

Warren made a noise, the first one I'd heard out of him since we'd come into the room. I'd have been happier if he hadn't sounded scared. "Easy, Warren," Adam told him. "You're safe here.” "If you die on us, you won't be," said Kyle with a growl that would have done credit to any of the werewolves in the room.

I told them," he said in a clear, carrying voice, "that they should not give someone as old and powerful as I a daughter to love. That it would end badly.

Vampire politics make the very complicated dance of manners that is werewolf protocol look like the Hokey Pokey.