“Who hit you?""Why, so you can go beat him up?" "One of the fringe benefits of being my human servant is my protection.""I don't need your protection, Jean-Claude.""He hurt you.""And I shoved a gun into his groin and made him tell me everything he knew," I said.”

“Auggie said you were too sentimental for your own good sometimes."Out loud he said, "Perhaps, but you have taught me that sentiment is not always a bad thing."I stared up at that impossibly beautiful face, and felt love swell up inside me like a physical force. It filled my body, swelling upward until it made my chest ache, my throat tighten, and my eyes burn. It sounded so stupid. But I loved him. Loved all of him, but loved him more because loving me had made him better. That he would say that I had taught him about being sentimental made me want to cry. Richard reminded me at every turn that I was bloodthirsty and cold. If that were true, then I couldn't have taught Jean-Claude about sentimentality. You can't learn, if you don't have it to teach.He kissed me. He kissed me softly, with one hand lost in the hair to the side of my face. He drew back and whispered, "I never thought to see that look upon your face, not for me.""I love you," I said, and touched his hand where it lay against my face.”

“His dark blue shirt was plastered to his chest, covered with werewolf goop and tears. "Now we both need a bath," I said."That can be arranged.""Please, Jean-Claude, no sexual innuendo until after I'm clean.""Of course, MA PETITE. It was crude of me tonight. My apologies."I stared at him. He was being far too nice. Jean-Claude was a lot of things, but nice wasn't one of them."If you're up to something, I don't want to know about it. I can't handle any deep, dark plots tonight, okay?"He smiled and gave a low, sweeping bow, never taking his eyes off me. The way you bow on the judo mat when you're afraid the person may pound you if you look away.I shook my head. He WAS up to something. Nice to know that not everyone had suddenly become something else. One thing I could always depend on what Jean-Claude. Pain in the ass that he was, he always seemed to be there. Dependable in his own twisted way. Jean-Claude dependable? I must have been more tired than I thought.”

“I did not run to him, but I did wrap my arms around him, press my ear to his chest, hold on to him as if he were the last solid thing in the world. He stroked my hair and murmured to me in French. I understood enough to know he was glad to see me and that he thought I looked beautiful. But beyond that it was just pretty noise.It wasn't until I felt Zerbrowski behind me that I pulled away, but when Jean-Claude's hand found mine, I welcomed it.Zerbrowski was looking at me as if he'd never seen me before. "What?" It came out hostile."I've never seen you be that ... soft with anyone before."It startled me. "You've seen me kiss Richard before."He nodded. "That was lust. This is ..." He shook his head, glancing up at Jean-Claude, then back to me. "He makes you feel safe.”

“Why is everything always my decision?" I asked.Because you will not tolerate anything else."Oh, I remembered now. "Great", I whispered.- Anita to Jean-Claude”

“I stared at Jean-Claude and it wasn't the beauty of him that made me love him, it was just him. It was love made up of a thousand touches, a million conversations, a trillion shared looks. A love made up of danger shared, enemies conquered, a determination to neither of us would change the other, even if we could. I love Jean-Claude, all of him, because if I took away the Machiavellian plottings, the labyrinth of his mind, it would lessen him, make him someone else.”

“Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,” he said, “That from the nunnery, Of they chaste breast and quiet mind.”I looked up at him, and said the next line, “To war and arms I fly.”“True, a new mistress now I chase,” he said.“The first foe in the field,” I said, and let him draw me closer.“And with a stronger faith embrace,” he said.“A sword, a horse, a shield.” And the last word was whispered against his chest, still looking up into those eyes, searching his face.“Yet this inconstancy is such, As thou too shalt adore,” he whispered against my hair.I finished the poem with my face pressed against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, that truly beat with my blood. “I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.”