“Talivar slouched in the chair next to me, casually lifting his bare feet to rest upon my chair's footrest. It was an oddly possessive move. It was also oddly sexy.”

“Lok’tar ogar!” The daemon holding me pulled my head back, exposing my throat.“Victory or death,” I retorted at my captor hoarsely. “For the Horde. And for the record, shouting World of Warcraft battlecries kind of kills the whole ‘imminent death’ expectation.”The daemon paused. “What server are you on?” he demanded.“Blackhand.”“Righteous. Guild?”I couldn’t imagine what the hell that mattered at this point, but it was keeping me alive so that was a bonus. I’d gladly spit outthe rest of my Warcraft stats if it bought me a few more minutes.“Yeah,” I coughed. “ElfhunterBitches.”He blinked and then grinned, tapping himself on the chest. “No shit. I’m TartBarbie. Undead DeathKnight.”I stared at him. “TB? Seriously? I’m Baconator. Blelf Warlock. You did a hell of a job tanking on that raid the other night.”“Yeah, I am pretty awesome.” He glanced over his shoulder, releasing me. “Look, if I’d known it was you, I’d never haveagreed to this. Go on.” He nudged me with a leather boot. “I’ll tell them you got away.”I didn’t have to be told twice. “Thanks,” I said softly. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”“No worries.” He winked. “See you next Thursday.”

“I had a naked incubus in my bedroom. With a frying pan of half-cooked bacon, and a hard-on. And a unicorn bite on his ass. Christ, this was turning out to be a weird morning.”

“I squinted at the clock, sighing when I realized it was only 7 A.M. "Christ. Do you think the powers that be would mind if I asked them to make sure the next apocalypse takes place later in the day? Maybe around teatime?""Good luck with that.”

“Not that I knew just what an incubus actually looked like, but judging by the darkness that was sliding up the back of his neck, it wasn’t overly human. Hysterical visions of people running for the exits pursued by a massive cock and balls filled my mind, and I let out a gasp of laughter despite myself.”

“I brushed my hands on the pockets of my jeans, still marvelling at the fact I wasn't wearing a gown. And that I had real underwear on. It was the small things”

“It’s like having my very own pet Legolas.”