“Are you calling me your gift?" "Yes." She smiled. "How do you feel about that?" "Like it's my turn to be unwrapped." He nibbled at her mouth. "Do it slow.”

“Tell me something, Raphael?" He was already turning, heading to the door. "What is it you'd like to know, Guild Hunter?"She hid her smile at his slip. "What do I call you? Husband? Mate? Boyfriend?"Stopping with his hand on the doorknob, he shot her an inscrutable look. "You can call me 'Master'.”

“What would you like to call me?"That made her pause. "Husband" was too human, "partner" factually wrong for a being as powerful as an archangel, "mate"...perhaps. But none of it was quite right. "Mine," she said at last.He blinked and when he raised his lashes again, the blue was liquid fire. Yes, that will do. "But for public consumption, you are my consort.""Consort," she murmured, tasting the word, feeling it's shape. "Yes, that fits.”

“We'll build our own home."The promise curled around her heart, a vivid ray of sunlight. "In Manhattan?""Of course." A slow, slow smile. "What kind of mansion would you like?"Damn, but the archangel was playing with her again. The sunshine grew, filled her veins."Actually, I kind of like yours." She slid her arms around his neck. "Can I have it? Oh, and can I have Jeeves, too? I've always wanted a butler.""Yes."She blinked. "Just like that?""It's only a place.""We'll make it more," she promised, her mouth to his. "We'll make it ours.”

“So, you tumbled that wolf you were with?” Mercy was too much a pack animal to take offense at the personal question. She grinned. “How did you know it was me?” “Do I look senile to you?”...“Yes,” Mercy said. “And I'm not doing it again.” If she kept telling herself that, maybe her traitorous body would actually notice and shut up with its demands. The older woman gave her a sour look. “Damn shame. What, you like them prettier?” A snort. “In my day, we liked men who looked like men.”

“He shot her a grin brimming with deliberate wickedness. "Today, I want to lead you astray."Her returning smile was a little shy but full of a quiet mischief he figured most people never saw. "Are you sure I'm not already beyond redemption?"He chuckled. "How could you be with a name like Angelica?"She made a face. "I'm an Annie, not an Angelica.""I prefer Angel.""Do you like your women angelic?"He chuckled. "No baby, I like my woman exactly as she is.”

“God, I love your skin.”“My skin?” She glanced uncomprehendingly at her own arm when he rose from nibbling at her. “It’s brown.”“It’s melted chocolate and coffee with cream, exotic as the fucking desert, and so damn erotic. I have wet dreams about you naked on my sheets, your skin smooth and hot from the sun’s rays.”She swallowed, chest heaving. “You make me sound edible.”He purred. “You are.”