“His eyes bore into mine. He watches every nuance, every detail of every expression, as if his existence depends on it. He fucks with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting God.”

“You may be trying to claim the woman, his eyes said, but make no mistake, she and the fucking fireplace are mine.”

“That part of his body was simply uncontrollable, apparently functioning in accordance to a single law of nature: She existed--he got a hard-on.”

“I couldn‘t tell the difference between the two of you anymore!" he roared. I smashed my fist into his face. Lies roll off us. It‘s the truths we work hardest to silence.Then you weren‘t looking hard enough! I‘m the one with boobs!"I know you‘re the one with boobs!They‘re in my fucking face every fucking time I turn around!”

“He even moved like an animal, fluid strength and surety. And all the devil ever wants in exchange, a small voice said warningly, is a soul.Oh, puh-lease, Chloe rebuked herself sternly. He's a man, nothing more. A big, beautiful, sometimes scary man, but that's all.Graceful as a stalking tiger, the big, beautiful, scary man dropped into a crouch on the ground before her, his dark eyes glinting in the shadowy night. They knelt mere inches apart. When he spoke, his words were painstakingly articulated, as if speaking was an immense effort. His words were carefully spaced, tight, coming in rushes, withpauses between."I will give you. Every. Artifact I own. If you kiss. Me and ask no. Questions.""Huh?" Chloe gaped."No questions," he hissed. He shook his head violently, as if trying to scatter something from it.”

“He didn't just kiss, he claimed ownership. Took her mouth with urgency, as if his life depended on his kissing her.”

“He looks at me, looks at my head, and his lips twitch like he's trying not to bust out laughing. "You don't need that... whatever the fuck it is.""Ain't dying by Shade. It's a MacHalo.”