“Whatever demon invented stiletto-heeled boots should roast in hell...”

“Impertinent submissive,” Raoul snapped, and his dark brown eyes turned mean. “Nothing new for this one. You're doing a lousy job of bringing her to heel, Marcus.”“Bring me to heel? Like I'm a dog?” Without thinking, Gabi instinctively yanked away and snapped out, “Bite me.”

“If the goddess—and that would be me, by the way—is displeased, you’ll get bats in your hair and mice in your boots.”

“What are you doing?”“Whatever I want.”

“And he calls it playing? Like, whatever happened to chess? Or cards? Or tag?”

“Well hell. He’d gotten sucked right into caring for this little bundle of troubles.”

“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.“Whatever I want, sweetheart.”