“Holy dust,” I murmured, looking for it among the clutter. Jenks’s wings hummed and he dropped to hover over the envelope that I’d gathered from the slats under my bed, the only place the pixies didn’t clean. It was on sanctified ground, so I figured it was holy enough. And God knew my bed hadn’t seen any action lately.”

“I figured being a bed salesman was a job of biblically bad paradox. I mean, here he was, forced to stand for eight or nine hours a day, and the whole time he’s surrounded by beds. And not only that, he’s surrounded by shoppers who see the beds and can’t help but think, Man, I’d love to lie down on that bed for a second. So not only does he have to stop himself from lying down, but he has to stop everyone else from doing it, too. I knew if I were him, I would be desperate for human company.”

“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.”

“You're not driving home if it's late, though. I am accustomed to dropping my women off at their door," he snickered because he knew she'd blush and he wanted her to, "and sometimes I put them to bed.”

“Over the years, I’d learned that under the bed was the best place to keep anything I didn’t want found, because there was so much crap—papers, magazines, dirty socks, grocery bags—that no one would ever suspect that anything of value was under there. Sort of like hiding in plain sight.”

“A brick and a blanket aptly describe my former roommate. He was as dumb as a brick, and only highly functional on a bed. Or so I heard—not that I’d know from personal experience.
”