“Nessa held her arm up. She was staring at it, trying to gauge how big that was. “Dude, that’s as big as my arm. That’s like being f****d by a limb dude!” She wiggled her arm back and forth. “That's not normal.”

“Like a girl, a baby running after her mother, begging to be picked up, and she tugs on her skirts, holding her back as she tries to hurry off—all tears, fawning up at her, till she takes her in her arms… That’s how you look, Patroclus, streaming live tears.”

“Hellooo.” I held out my arm. “An amethyst woman with blue hair is telling you this.”She reached out and scraped her short nails over my arm.I snatched my arm back. “Ow.”Not body makeup.” She frowned and peered at the roots of my hair. “A good die-job or you’ve really got blue hair.”For now,” I said. “I’m half Drow.”She raised an eyebrow. Dark Elves.”Uh-huhhhh.”During the day I look normal, like you.”With an amused look she held up her arm, showing her dark, golden skin. “You’re Kenyan and Puerto Rican?”

“Charlee has my arm. She has my arm—my arm that’s rigid from pleasure, from her touch—in her little fingers. She holds my other one, too and she’s right there, that sweet candy perfume stripping the rest of the strength from my body, and it escapes in a soft, breathy sigh.”

“She gathered the cat up in her arms and held it to her chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world.”

“She was gauging him, trying to work out what cards he had up his sleeve. For now he might be able to keep her off balance by smiling meaningfully and dropping hints, delaying the moment in which she realized that she held all the cards, and that his well-brushed sleeves held nothing but his arms.”