“Too bad the freedom seemed like a prison.As his boots hit the mosaic floor at the bottom of the stairs, John Mellencamp's old-school, bic-lighter anthem echoed in his head-and though he'd always like the song okay, he'd never truly understood what it meant.Kind of wished that were still the case.Life goes on...long after the thrill of living is gone...”

“In a quiet voice, he said, "How long's this been going on for you? With her."John took out a small pad he'd brought with him and wrote: Since the moment I first met her.After Rehv read the scribble, he frowned. "She feel the same way?"John did not drop his eyes as he shook his head. No sense hiding shit. Not with a symphath.Rehv nodded once. "That's so like her. Goddamn it...okay, let's do this.”

“A cold blast hit him and he laughed at the sting as he stepped outside, surveyed the night sky, and drank deeply.Such a good liar he was. Such a good one.Everyone thought he was fine because he'd camo'd his little problems. He wore a Sox hat to hide the eye twitch. Set his wristwatch to go off every half hour to beat back the dream. Ate though he wasn't angry. Laughed though he found nothing funny.And he'd always smoked like a chimney.”

“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—”

“His stare shifted back over to Qhuinn. The guy's huge body was arching into the human woman, his broad shoulders and his tight hips and his long, powerful legs guaranteeing her one hell of a ride. He was amazing at sex.Not that Blay would know firsthand. He'd seen it and he'd heard it...and he'd imagined what it would be like. But when the opportunity had arisen, he'd been relegated to a small, special class: denied. Actually, it was more of a category than a class...because he was the only one who Qhuinn would not have sex with.”

“John's tattoo..Goddamn..He'd done it as a memorial to her-putting her name in his skin so she'd be with him always. After all, there was nothing more permanent than that-hell, that was why in the mating ceremony males got their backs carved up: Rings could get lost.”

“In his old life, the answer would have been easy: He'd have just put a gun to Vin's head and dragged the fucker to the altar. Now? He needed to be a little more civilized.”