“You're going to have to settle on one eventually. Why not save us both the hassle, close your eyes and point. Whoever you're pointing at will be our winner." "I've played that game once before. Ended up--" Paris shuddered. "Never mind. It's not good to wander down that particular memory trail. So no. Just no.”

“Fried twinkies? Paris nodded. Only once, I've never forgotten the experience. It's like heaven in your mouth, man.”

“One of these days you're going to wake up," William finally said, "and I will have shaved you, Everywhere." (Paris) "Won't make a difference. Women will still want me.”

“I have never battled a gargoyle before.” Zacharel shook his head, a dark lock of hair tumbling into one emerald eye. Damp from the melting snow, the hair stuck to his skin. He didn’t seem to notice. “But I am certain these will murder Paris before willingly carrying him inside.”As if he were the only intelligent life form left in existence, William splayed his arms. “And the problem with that? He’ll still be inside, exactly where he wants to be. And by the way,” he added, blinking at Paris with lashes so long they should have belonged to a girl. “Your new permanent eyeliner is very pretty. You’ll make a good-looking corpse.”Do not react. He did, and the teasing about his ash/ambrosia tattoos would never end. “Thanks.”“I prefer the lip liner, though. A nice little feminine touch that really makes your eyes pop.”“Again, thanks,” he gritted.He wants us!Stupid demon.William grinned. “Maybe we can make out later. I know you want me.”Tell him yes!Not another word out of you, or—“Paris? Warrior?” Zacharel said. “Are youlistening to me?”“No.”Zach nodded, apparently not the least offended. “I enjoy your honesty, though I believe you suffer from what the humans call ADD.”“Oh, yeah. I definitely have attention deficient demon.”

“Where is he?” she demanded, though she wasn’t too worried about the answer. Paris and Zacharel were friends despite their differences, and Wrath had yet to make a peep.“I took him to the castle and dropped him on the bridge.”Reevaluation time. Paris and Zacharel were not friends on any level. Wrath, on the other hand, must think angels could do no wrong. “Why would you do that?” Sure, Paris would be carried inside and locked up. Sure, he would escape, and he would be fine. But none of that mattered to her just then. Fury rose, dark and hot and dangerous.Calm down. Before she whipped out that crystal blade Paris had given her and went to town on angel flesh. She’d so had enough of males and their abuse of supernatural abilities. Zacharel blinked as if the answer should be obvious to one and all. “That, as you called it, is what one male does to another when they are arguing.”“No. No, it’s not.”His lips edged down in the slightest of frowns. “That is what your Paris did to William of the Dark only this morn.”Well, she had no comeback for that, did she?”

“You should be wearing green," she said. "To match your eyes.""In case you never noticed, my eyes are gray.""Never mind that," she said, once again waving my words away. "That brown washes out your skin tone."Why was she so concerned about my clothing choices? That was completely unlike her. "I like to look washed out," I said dryly. "Otherwise people are intimidated by my glorious beauty.”

“Her hand fluttered over her heart. "Did you just say the word shopping without flinching?""I did. So?""So, that's gotta be a record. It's a worldwide fact men hate shopping.""How can I hate it when I've never done it?"Her lips curled into a slow, beautiful smile. "If you weren't already an angel, I'd dub you a saint. Poor guy. You have no idea what you're in for.”