“From across the dark bedroom, Lassiter stood in the corner next to the highboy, feeling like crap while Tohr whispered to the dress.Scrubbing his face, he wondered why … why in the hell, of all the ways he could have gotten free of the In Between, did it have to be this one.The shit was starting to get to him.”

“As soon as he was free from the library, he raced away from the Sanctuary, returning his faithless body to his bedroom at the mansion. He was still erect when he got there. Duh. Staring down at his button fly, he tried to find another explanation. Maybe he’d thrown a clot? A cock clot … or maybe … shit… There was no way he could be attracted to another female.”

“I'd better go,” he said, without leaving.That one eye, the blue one, just kept staring up at him. Bloodshot, with a cut across the brow above it, the thing shouldn’t have been able to focus. But it was.“I have to go,” Blay said finally.Without leaving.Damn him, he didn't know what the hell he was doing—A tear escaped from that eye. Welling up along the lower lid, it coalesced at the far corner, formed a crystal circle, and grew so fat it couldn't hold on to the lashes. Slipping free, it meandered downward, getting lost in dark hair at the temple.”

“Lassiter skidded in from the billiards room, the fallen angel glowing from his black-and-blond hair and white eyes, all the way down to his shitkickers. Then again, maybe the illumination wasn’t his nature, but that gold he insisted on wearing. He looked like a living, breathing jewelry tree. “I’m here. Where’s my chauffeur hat?” “Here, use mine,” Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. “It’ll help that hair of yours.” The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” “Do not tell me you’re a Yankees fan,” V drawled. “I’ll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we’ve got.” Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual. “Are you serious?” Butch said. Like the guy had maybe volunteered for a lobotomy. Or a limb amputation. Or a pedicure. “No fucking way,” V echoed. “When and where did you become a friend of the enemy—” The angel held up his palms. “It’s not my fault you guys suck—” Tohr actually stepped in front of Lassiter, like he was worried that something a lot more than smack talk was going to start flying. And the sad thing was, he was right to be concerned. Apart from their shellans, V and Butch loved the Sox above almost everything else—including sanity.”

“Tohr shook his head. "If you're going to get plastered, why can't you do it like areal man." "I like the taste of fruit." "You are what you drink."The angel glanced up at the clock, "Shit. I missed Maury. But, I DVR'd Ellen.”

“Tohrment spoke. "Bella's brother called. He's tabled the sehelusion request and asked that she stay here for a couple of days."Z jacked his head up. "Why?""He didn't give a reason-" Tohr's eye's narrowed on Z's face. "Oh... my God.""What the fuck are you looking at?"Phury pointed to the antique mirror hanging on the wall next to the double doors. "See for yourself."Zsadist marched across the room, ready to give them all hell. Bella was what mattered-His mouth went lax at his reflection. With a shaky hand he reached out to the eyes in the old-fashioned leaded glass. His irises were no longer black. They were yellow. Just like his twin's."Phury?" he said softly. "Phury... what happened to me?"As the male came up behind him, his brother's face appeared right beside Z's. And then Wrath's dark reflection showed up in the mirror, all long hair and sunglasses. Then Rhage's star-fallen beauty. And Vishous's Sox cap. And Tohrment's brush cut. And Butch's busted nose.One by one they reached out and touched him, their big hands gently on his shoulders."Welcome back, my brother," Phury whispered.Zsadist stared at the males who were behind him. And the oddest thought that if he were to let himself go limp and fall backward... they would catch him.”

“The deadweight of his body,coupled with the aches, made him remember back to a time when he'd gotten colds or flus. Same feeling. Was it possible he was getting sick?Made him wonder if anyone had come up with a product like Dead-quil or some shit.Probably not.”