“Ahh, you’re a man used to getting his own way.”“Always,” he said in a husky growl.”

“The more the other party thinks he's having his way, the easier always to get your own.”

“Watch that mouth, cher. I own a ball gag. I know how to use it, he growled.”

“It was as Nazruddin had said, when I asked him about visas and he had said that bank notes were better. 'You can always get into those places. What is hard is to get out. That is a private fight. Everybody has to find his own way.”

“A man in the jungle at night, as someone said, may suppose a hyena's growl to be a lion's; but when he hears the lion's growl, he knows damn well it's a lion.”

“Kitten,” he growled roughly.I kissed him softly, sliding my hands into his silky locks, letting the pieces slide through my fingers. I tasted in him my own rising desire, my own need and heartache. Thrilling. Frightening. I pulled back.“Kitten,” he said again, voice strained. “You don’t get to do that and then stop. That’s not how it works.”I stared at him, my breath stalling in my lungs.“Not when you’re mine.” Daemon backed us up and slid down the wall, pulling me on his lap so I was straddling him. “And you’re mine.”