She'd never have allowed herself to be held by anything as mundane as a few bars and a reinforced door

Time was such an odd thing. One moment you could talk to someone, then suddenly, they were gone.

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.

I was talking cannibalism, not romance.

Knowledge is a better weapon than a sword.

I jerked my chin toward Frost’s body. ‘All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing.’ Hao said, “Life is not safe. A man might spend his whole time on earth staying safe in a basement, and in the end, he still dies like everyone else.” Half-naked, covered with the same filth we all were, he still gave the impression of being in control of himself and his environment.

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