I could hear him laughing. Son of a bit*h. I would kill him. I didn't care if he was coyote or the son of Satan.He was a dead man walking.

She was on the far side, leaving two cold feet of mattress between them. He knew that she'd fall asleep like that... and then gradually move over until she was plastered against him. Then he could go to sleep, too.

The only certainty life contains is death.

Tim was dead. And he's always been a loser. I'd be damned if I was going to be the victim of a loser - or anyone else.

Evil must always be fought.

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.

You should be home sleeping. What is the use of having a man in the house, if he cannot take care of you for a while?” “Mmm,” I said. “I give up. What's the use of having a man in the house?