“Watch over her ma mère. S’il te plaît keep her safe. Even from me.”

“Lucien bent and searched through the scraps of paper at Loki’s stone feet for the blood-kissed prayer Dante had placed among them. Finding it, he plucked it from the pile and straightened.The fading essence of creawdwr blood magic tingled against his fingers. Unfolding the liquor store receipt, he read the words scrawled in Dante’s lefty slant: Watch over her, ma mère. S’il te plaît, keep her safe. Even from me.Lucien reread the prayer until the words blurred. He closed his fingers around the receipt, the paper crinkling against his palm. He had no doubt who she was — Special Agent Heather Wallace.Wounded, his child, yes. Damaged, yes. But Dante’s heart was whole and in love, it seemed, with a mortal. Perhaps Heather Wallace could bind Dante and help keep his sanity from unraveling.Insanity. The fate of an unbound creawdwr.”

“It's a good thing I love you, because you officially just scared the shit out of me.""A good thing yea," Dante agreed, squeezing her hand before releasing it."She's not alone in those sentiments," the Morningstar said, "Except for the love. I make no clamis there yet, little creaw-Dante”

“Nothing, Basil. I’ll see you in a few,”Fine, and it’s Lord Basil.”Even in the bedroom?”Especially in the bedroom.”

“I know what love feels like, but this, this man... fuck me. Steals my breath. Knots me up. Torches me.""No, this is what denying love feels like, man. Why you denying your heart?”

“Speaking of tiny skivvies I think that's what you both should wear during your inevitable cage fight. We can even call your soon-to-be epic battle the Die-You in the Bayou. Sell tickets.”

“Who hears the wishes and goodbyes? The speaker does.... And you hope that what you say from the heart has power. Power to protect, power to reach the ears of the dead. A spoken thing or a whished-hard thing takes a shape within the heart, man. Takes shape. Becomes real.”