“Oh, Gods."His eyes shone with want and predatory satisfaction. "The name's William. It's a common mistake.”

“You said he was a soldier. You don't suppose...?""Oh, Gods." Ignata blinked. "You think something could be wrong down there?"All of them looked at William, who chose this precise moment to slide the wet shirt back on his back, which required him to flex, raising his arms. "That would be a shame," Cerise murmured.”

“William's eyes glowed like two amber coals. She met his gaze and flinched. No emotion reflected in the amber, only intelligence, cruel in a way the eyes of a hunting Mire cat were cruel. She saw no worry, no softness, no thoughts at all, only waiting. He seemed barely human now, not a man but some feral thing, knitted of darkness and biding his time for an opportunity to pounce.”

“Cough clenched, and vomited something chunky into the grass.Terrific.The big dog sat on his haunches and looked at William with a perplexed expression on his face. "Well, eat it back up," William hissed. "Don't waste it."Cough gave a tiny whine."I'm not eating your puke."Cough panted at him."No.”

“How is it different?"He rolled his head back, sable hair falling down on his shoulders. "With Rose I knew what to say. I could take a step back and talk to her. I remembered all the crap from the magaznies. It was easy.""And with me, it's hard?" Why? Because she was a swamp girl? And how did the magazines fit into it?William looked away from her. "I don't like it when you're away. If I don't see you, I can't settle down. If I see you talking with another man, I want to claw his throat out. And none of the things you're supposed to say fit."Oh, this had to be good. "What sort of things?"He sighed. "The lines. Like, 'You're my everything,' or 'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“George turned to her. His blue eyes widened. His lovely face took on a forlorn, deeply troubled expression. He leaned forwar, and, in a theatrical whisper, said, 'My past is tragic. I wouldn't want to burden you with it. It's a pain I must suffer alone. In the rain. In silence.”

“A forest," William said, his expression distant. "Where the ground is dry soil and stone. Where tall trees grow and centuries of autumn carpet their roots. Where the wind smells of game and wildflowers.""Why, that was lovely, Lord Bill. Do you ever write poetry? Something for your blueblood lady?""No.""She doesn't like poetry?""Leave it."Hehe. "Oh, so you have a lady. How interes--”