“Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.”

“He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always. Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever. -Mac”

“He looked at me and I shivered. I never get enough of him. Never will. He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always. Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever. Later we would go to bed, and when he rose over me, dark and vast and eternal, I'd know joy. Who Knew? Much later we might fly a couple of Hunters to the moon.”

“I didn’t ask. Some things are better left unsaid.He looked at me and I shivered. I never get enough of him. Never will.He lives.I breathe.I want. Him. Always.Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.Later we would go to bed, and when he rose over me, dark and vast and eternal, I’d know joy.”

“And I can’t get to her. My girl is half naked and dying and I can’t get to her! I push forward. I ice solid. I crack it and pull back. Fuck!”

“Those who were so long imprisoned in ice and darkness seem to find the sunlight jarring, painful. The longer I walk around with this grief inside me, the more I understand that. It’s as if sunshine is a slap in the face that says, Look, the world’s all bright and shiny! Too bad you’re not.”

“I could see the rage of insatiable uninvited lust in every line of that dark, stoic face that had once been too subtly etched for me to read.I wasn't the only one lying awake at night, fevered with memories, tossing, turning, soaking my sheets, burning up--not for Fae sex, but him, damn it all to hell, him.”