“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.”

“He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?""Jericho""Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight.My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?”

“Stop. Vibrating." Ryodan plucks a paper out of the air and slaps it back down on his desk.I wonder if he cleans it. How many tushes have been on that thing? I'm never touching it again. "Can't help it," I say around a mouthful of candy bar. I know what I look like: a smudge of black leather and hair. "It happens when I get really excited. The more excited I get, the more I vibrate.""Now there's a thought," Lor says."If you mean what I think you mean, you want to shut the fuck up and never think it again," Ryodan says."Just saying, boss," Lor says. "You can't tell me you didn't think it, too.”

“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.”

“Nope,” she managed. “No other questions.”Eleven centuries of captivity. Hung on his hated enemy’s study wall. Eleven centuries of not touching. Not eating. Not loving. Had he had anyone to talkto?Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for he startled her by saying softly, “ ’Tis no longer ofconsequence, lass, but thank you for the compassion. ’Tis nigh over. Seventeen more days, Jessica. That’s all.”For some reason his words brought a sudden hot burn of tears to the backs of her eyes. Not only hadn’t eleven centuries turned him into a monster, he was trying to soothe her, to make her feel better about his imprisonment.“You weep for me, woman?”She turned away. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.”“Jessica.” Her name was a soft command.She disobeyed it, staring out the window at the rolling hills.“Jessica, look at me.”Eyes bright with unshed tears, she whipped her head around and glared at him. “I weep for you, okay?” she snapped. “For eleven centuries stuck in there. Can I start driving again or do you need something else?”He smiled faintly, raised his hand, and splayed his palm against the inside of the silvery glass. Without an ounce of conscious thought, her hand rose tomeet his, aligning on the cool silver,palm to palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. And though she felt only a cold hardness beneath her palm, the gesture made something go all warm and soft in her heart.Neither of them spoke or moved for a moment.”

“Open your eyes and say my name.”I squeeze them shut more tightly.“It would make my cock hard to hear you say my name.”My eyes pop open. “Jericho Barrons,” I say sweetly.He makes a pained sound. “Bloody hell, woman, I think a part of me wants to keep you this way.”I touch his face. “I like how I am. I like how you are, too. When you are…What is that word you used? Cooperating.”“Tell me to fuck you.”I smile and comply. We’re back in territory I understand.“You didn’t say my name. Say my name when you tell me to fuck you.”“Fuck me, Jerricho Barrons.”“From now on, you will call me Jericho Barrons every time you speak to me.”

“Don't leave me, Rainbow Girl."Rainbow Girl. Was that who I was?It seemed so long ago. I smiled faintly. "Remember the skirt I wore to Mallucé's the night you told me to dress Goth?""It's upstairs in your closet. Never throw it away. It looked like a wet dream on you.”