“He was having an illicit affair... with his own mate.”

“Without his mate to share his life, he was but a screen for events and circumstances to pass through. He was npt even empty, for he was no vessel to hold even the thinnest of air.He lived, though was not truly alive”

“The Old Language really was beautiful, Blay thought. Staring at the symbols, for one brief, ridiculous moment he imagined his own name across Qhuinn's shoulders, carved into that smooth skin in the manner of the mating ritual.Never going to happen. They were destined to be best friends...which, compared to strangers, was something huge. Compared to lovers? It was the cold side of a locked door.”

“Butch didn't live in his own place. He didn't spend his own money. He had no job, no future. He was a well-kept pet, not a man.”

“Wait", Butch said, thinking about the glymera. "Marissa's mated now, right? I mean, even if I die, she will have had a mate right?""Death wish," V said under his breath. "Fucking Death Wish Boy we got over here."The Scribe Virgin seemed flat-out amazed "I should kill you now.”

“Tohr took a pull of his beer. “What the hell is this?”“When Harry Met Sally.”Tohr lowered the longneck from his mouth. “What?”“Shut it. After this, we’re going to watch an episode of Moonlighting. Then An Affair to Remember—the old-school one, not that stupidity with Warren Beatty. Then The Princess Bride—”Tohr hit the switch by his hip and straightened the chair up. “Okay. Right. Have fun with this—”

“In the silence that followed, Blay knew he had something he was supposed to say. Yeah...it was right on his tongue. It was... Shit. With Qhuinn looking at him like that, he couldn't remember his own name. Blaysox? Blacklock? Blabberfox? Who the fuck knew...”