“Stop it.Do not feel safe with him. The Stockholm Syndrome is not your friend.”

“The essential truth of life, he was coming to realize, wasn't romanticand took only two words to label: Shit. Happens.But the thing was, you kept going. You kept your friends and yourfamily and your mate as safe as you were able. And you kept fighting evenafter you were knocked down.”

“His cheeks were slick with tears that spilled over his diamond eyes, a ceaseless flow he neither noticed nor appeared to care about. And she had a feeling it was going to be a while before the leaking stopped-an inner artery had been nicked and this was the blood of his heart, spilling out of him, covering him.”

“See, this was the thing with Qhuinn. He could be out there and he could let his edge get away from him, but he always came back and made you feel like you were the single most important person in the world to him and that he was truly sorry for hurting your feelings.”

“So will you meet me?” “Yeah. Sure. Where.” “Montrag’s safe house in Connecticut. If you were the one who killed him, you know the address.”

“good call. A second drag and your next stop's the wastepaper basket - and not to toss your kleenex, true.”

“Oh… God. What was a male supposed to do in this situation? "I'm sorry," he muttered. "If I… uh, hurt your feelings or something." She glared at him. "I'm not hurt. I'm pissed off and sexually frustrated.”