“Walking was a habit he'd been unwilling to give up. He couldn't see the point in shutting himself up in a vehivle any more often than he had to, doing damage to the earth and the air in order to avoid using his body. People did just that all the time, though. Most claimed they needed to save time. It was true they had little enough of that-- their lives were so soon ended. But Nathan didn't see them treating time as precious otherwise. They'd sit in their cars at a fast-food place for fifteen minutes when it would be quicker to park and go inside. No, he blamed the modern culture of urgency. Only the most urgent sensations, emotions, and situations were considered important. They called it living life to the fullest. Not surprisingly, many sought numbness in alcohol or the pervasive voyeurism of reality TV while others tried to live a perpetual peak experience through drugs, sex, or celebrity. Ordinary lives, ordinary living had little value. Nathan thought people needed to wash dishes by hand sometimes. Prepare their own meals more often. And take walks.”

“She was talking about the future. About their future, as if it were settled and agreed upon that they would be together. As if she'd accepted the mate bond.The hard crust of time moved inside him--calcified years shifting, shifting, threatening to break apart under the assault of this new flood of feeling. He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't allow his fingers to tighten on the hand he held. He was too strong. He could crush it, could quite literally crush her bones if he gripped too hard. He could hurt her. He wouldn't. Easier to stop breathing than to take that chance. But she wanted his promise, didn't she? To give her that, he needed air. [His] chest heaved. The breath he drew was ragged. He felt it all the way down. "All right. But you have to promise the same..."Her face was still and solemn, her eyes large. It was too dark to see their beautiful ocean color, yet he could feel the ocean in them washing over him. Her voice was quiet. "I do so vow."Those were the right words. The perfect words. Were they Wiccan? Part of some sidhe ritual? It didn't matter. He gave them back to her. "And I, too, do so vow."(Blood Challenge by Eileen Wilks)”

“I need to check your ankle.” “Ask.” “If you object, I—” “Giving me a chance to object is not the same as asking permission. You’re used to telling people what to do. That works with those guards you’re in charge of. You aren’t in charge of me. You have to ask.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s more efficient my way.” “If your primary goal in life is efficiency, you should just die.” That startled him. His head actually jerked back. “What?” “The most efficient way to live a life is to die a couple seconds after you’re born. Pfft. Done.” She dusted her hands to demonstrate that. “It’s too late for you to achieve optimal efficiency, but you could still . . .”

“…the same kind of answers the stars are always trying to give us, she thought, when we look up and up at them. So high above, speaking in gradual whispers about time, about their own flaming hearts and the endless cold that lies between…”

“He closed the damn door and turned and stopped, looking at her. “Sometimes,” he said softly, and stopped, then started again, “I often wonder why human men are so fixated on how a woman looks when there’s so much more to explore, and so many kinds of beauty—why obsess over one particular version? But sometimes, when I look at you, I understand."And sometimes, when he looked at her the way he was now, she was beautiful. Not just okay. Not even really pretty. Beautiful.”

“The dead weren’t scary. It was the living you had to watch out for.”

“Women were complicated creatures. Any man who thought he had one figured out simply wasn’t paying attention,”