“Daemon’s gaze dipped again, and I shivered under his intensescrutiny. Why, oh why, did Blake need to bail early, leaving me behindwith Daemon? “Where did you get this dress?” he asked.“Your sister,” I told him blandly.He frowned, looking half disgusted. “I don’t even know what to sayabout that.”

“I don’t think we got the chance to introduce ourselves the other night at the diner. My name is Blake Saunders.” He offered his free hand.Daemon glanced at Blake’s hand before returning his gaze to me. “I know who you are.”Oh, geez. I twisted toward Blake. “This is Daemon Black.”His smile faltered. “Yeah, I know who he is, too.”Laughing under his breath, Daemon straightened. At his full height, he was a good head taller than Blake. “It’s always nice to meet another fan.”Yeah, Blake had no idea what to say to that.”

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Blake finally asked one night as Beckett lay on his bed.“I told you not to come the fuck out there, didn’t I?” Beckett hissed.“I like the woods,” Blake said. “I don’t like knowing what he does to you.”

“Why were you running?” Gordon looked confused. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.”Bite me,” I told him. He was so going to get charged with assault. I might even have to put a restraining order on his sorry ass. “Oh, wait a minute, you already did bite me, didn’t you… you psycho!”He rolled his eyes. “You’re really going to have to get over that if this relationship is going to have half a chance.”

“Why what,my lord?"She watched him look away and stare absentmindedly at the fire, but he refused to let go of her arm. She waited, enjoying the small pleasure of his touch,but after a moment, asked again. "Why what, my lord?"Ranulf didn't move,but in a low voice answered, "Pick one.Why did you return to Hunswick when you thought I was in danger? Why are you still here? Why did you stay with me last night? Why are you not frightened of my appearance when so many are?" Then his head swiveled around so his gaze could lock with hers. "But mostly I want to know why you kissed me.”

“Why do you pray?" he asked me, after a moment. Why did I pray? A strange question. Why did I live? Why did I breathe?"I don't know why," I said, even more disturbed and ill at ease. "I don't know why."After that day I saw him often. He explained to me with great insistence that every question possessed a power that did not lie in the answer. "Man raises himself toward God by the questions he asks Him," he was fond of repeating. "That is the true dialogue. Man questions God and God answers. But we don't understand His answers. We can't understand them. Because they come from the depths of the soul, and they stay there until death. You will find the true answers, Eliezer, only within yourself!" "And why do you pray, Moshe?" I asked him. "I pray to the God within me that He will give me the strength to ask Him the right questions.”