“The weight of the dead was heavier than the pounds of the body.”

“The kiss that was pressed against his own mouth was reverent, the contact no heavier than the warm, still air in the room. It was the consummate lover’s kiss, the kind of thing he had wanted even more than the hot sex they’d just had.”

“I’m talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen.” “I thought your mother was dead.” “She is.” “You have a very low standard for communication.”

“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.”

“All I know is, she's a pounding in my chest that I can't ignore. . . hell, that I don't WANT to ignore. [Rhage]”

“When order in study was finally reestablished, Wrath looked downright nasty. "Next one of you mouthy assholes makes me pound my desk again, I'm throwing you the fuck out." On that note, he reached down, picked up the cowering ninety-pounds retriever, and settled George in his lap. "You're freaking out my dog and it's pissing me off.”

“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!”