“Lucas nodded the instant before Hawke caught the first hint of an exquisitely familiar scent on the breeze. Autumn leaves and spice and strength. His wolf stretched out at the intoxication of it. Maybe she wasn’t his mate, but the animal wasn’t bothered. It still wanted the man to take her, to claim her. To bite her.Jesus.”

“Milla was always aware, on the dimmest edge of her consciousness that Diaz constantly watched her.She also knew that he was a man who never gave up, who never lost sight of his goal. Exactly what his goal was wasn’t always clear to her, but she had no doubt he was perfectly clear in his own mind what he wanted.He wanted her. She knew it, and yet she couldn’t imagine how they could ever be together again. The rift between them, to her, was final and absolute. He’d betrayed her in the most wounding way possible, and forgiveness evidently wasn’t her strong suit. She had found that grudges weren’t heavy at all; she could carry them for a very long time.Diaz wasn’t taking care of her out of the goodness of his heart. He was taking care of her the way a wolf cared for its wounded mate.”

“…‘I haven’t seen you before.’ His voice was velvet soft, lazy with provocation. But his gaze wasn’t lazy; it was predatory, like an animal on the scent. ‘My father and I are down from Scotland’ Zelda replied, half breathless under the unmistakable lust in his eyes, the warmth of his hand still tingling on her skin; her heart suddenly pounding. Their eyes held for a moment-pale blue and amethyst-and a flurry of ripe unguarded expectation shimmered in the air. Hotspur and graphic. Alec recovered first because he wasn’t given to blind impetuosity.”

“If she wasn’t his best friend… There really was no point in finishing that thought. She was and it was his job as the man in her life to kick the living shit out of any asshole that hurt her.”

“He’d been ready to push her away, and then she’d grabbed him at her mother’s call. Wasn’t his fault he gave in to instinct to save their ruse.Until her hot, wet mouth opened under his. Until her sweet taste swamped his senses, and the maddening scents of vanilla and spice made him want to howl at the moon. He finally knew she approached sex the same way she approached anger—no holds barred—no prisoners taken. Demanding. Punishing. Passionate.”

“My brothers nodded their heads in unison. All of them but me. It wasn’t okay. I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t care if Jesus wanted her or not. She was my mommy. He could take an old mommy. One that didn’t have little boys to take care of.”