“Straightening up so the full force of that cold blast hit him square in the face, Qhuinn glared into the rush, picturing those pines ahead that he couldn’t see because his eyes were watering from the wind. Opening his mouth, he screamed bloody murder, adding his voice to the maelstrom.Godd*mn it, he wasn’t going down like a pussy. No ducking, no pathetic oh-please-God-no-saaaaaave-me. F**k that. He was going to meet death with his fangs bared and his body braced and his heart pounding not from fear, but from a whole boatload of . . .“Blow me, Grim Reaper!”

“Do not think of him with Blay. Do not think of him with Blay. Do not think of him— “I didn’t know you were a sherry man.” “Huh?" Qhuinn glanced down at what he’d poured himself. Fuck. In the midst of the self-lecture, he’d picked up the wrong bottle. “Oh, you know… I’m good with it.” To prove the point, he tossed back the hooch—and nearly choked as the sweetness hit his throat. He served himself another only so he didn’t look like the kind of idiot who wouldn’t know what he was dishing out into his own glass. Okay, gag. The second was worse than the first. From out of the corner of his eye, he watched Saxton settle in at the table, the brass lamp in front of him casting the most perfect glow over his face. Shiiiiiit, he looked like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad, with his buff-colored tweed jacket and his pointed pocket square and that button-down/sweater vest combo keeping his fucking liver cozy. Meanwhile, Qhuinn was sporting hospital scrubs, bare feet. And sherry.”

“Wheeling around, he went blindly for the doors, messing up the piles, nearly knocking himself over on the coffee table.Saxton got there first, blocking the way out with his body.Blay's eyes locked on the males face." Get out of my way. Right now. You don't want to be around me.""Is that not for me to decide."Blay shifted his focus to those lips he knew so well. "Don't push me.""Or what.""If you don't get the fuck out of my way, I'm going to bend you over that desk of your-""Prove it."Wrong thing to say. In the wrong tone. At the wrong time.Blay let out a roar that rattled the diamond-paned windows. Then he grabbed his lover by the back of the head and all but threw Saxton across the room. As the male caught himself of the desk, papers went flying, the confetti of yellow legal pad and computer printouts falling down like snow.Saxton's torso curled around as he looked behind at what was coming at him."Too late to run." Blay growled as he ripped open his button fly.Falling upon the male, he was rough with his hands, tearing the the layers that kept him from what he was going to take. When there were no barriers, he bared his fangs and bit down on Saxton's shoulder through his clothes, locking the male beneath him even as he grabbed those wrist and all but nailed them to the leather blotter. And then he pushed in hard and let out everything he had, his body taking over .. . even as his heart stayed far, far away.”

“My name...my name is Mary. I'm here with a friend.'Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed. "Say that again,' he whispered.'Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's...We came here with a boy, with John Matthew. We were invited.'Rhage shivered, a balmy rush blooming out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him. Chaining him sweetly.He closed his eyes. 'Say something else.''What?' she asked, baffled.'Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.'She was silent, and he was about to demand that she speak when she said, 'You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?'He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter. It was her sound: low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if here being stroked on the inside of his skin. 'More,' he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better. 'Could you... could you please let go of me?''No.' He brought his other arm up. She was wearing some kind of fleece, and he moved the collar aside, putting his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't get away from him. 'Talk.'She started to struggle. 'You're crowding me.''I know. Talk.''Oh for God's sake, what do you want me to say?'Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful. 'Anything.''Fine. Get your hand off my throat and let me go or I'm going to knee you where it counts.'He laughed. Then sank his lower body into her, trapping her with his thighs and hips. She stiffened against him, but he got an ample feel of her. She was built lean, though there was no doubt she was female. Her breasts hit his chest, her hips cushioned his, her stomach was soft.'Keep talking,' he said in her ear. God, she smelled good. Clean. Fresh. Like lemon.When she pushed against him, he leaned his full weight into her. Her breath came out in a rush.'Please,' he murmured. Her chest moved against his as if she were inhaling. 'I... er, I have nothing to say. Except get off of me.'He smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed. There was no sense showing off his fangs, especially if she didn't know what he was. 'So say that.''What?''Nothing. Say nothing. Over and over and over again. Do it.' She bristled, the scent of fear replaced by a sharp spice, like fresh, pungent mint from a garden. She was annoyed now. 'Say it.'"Fine. Nothing. Nothing.' Abruptly she laughed, and the sound shot right through to his spine, burning him. 'Nothing, nothing. No-thing. No-thing. Noooooothing. There, is that good enought for you? Will you let me go now?”

“God...this was who he loved, he thought. And always would. It was the thrust of that stubborn jaw, and the dark, slashing eyebrows, and those piercings up his ear and in his full lower lip. It was that thick, glossy black hair and the golden skin and that heavily muscled body. It was the way he laughed and the fact that he never, ever cried. It was the scars on his inside no one knew about and the conviction that he would always be the first to run into a burning building or a bloody fight or a car wreck. It was all the things Qhuinn had been and was ever going to be.”

“You are so beautiful, he mouthed. But of course she couldn’t see his lips. Guess he was going to have to show her.”

“As he vomited, he felt, though did not see, V come over. Forcing his head up, Butch groaned, "Help me..."I'm going to, trahyner. Give me your hand." As Butch held his palm up in despair, Vishous whipped off his glove and grabbed on good and hard. V's energy, that beautiful, white light, poured down Butch's arm and ripped through him in a blast, cleansing, renewing.United by their clasped hands, they became again the two halves, the light and the dark. The Destroyer and the Savior. A whole.”