“Begging your pardon, princess. Did I neglect to pull my forelock?"She held up a hand.Her temper was a vile thing when loose, and the drumming in her head warned her it was very close to springing free."I'm already annoyed.It won't take much to push me to furious.”

“Where the devil did you get her?""I beg your pardon?""I said: the weather is getting better.""Seems so.""Who's the lassie?""My daughter.""You lie - she's not.""I beg your pardon?""I said: July was hot.”

“Be to her, Persephone,All the things I might not be;Take her head upon your knee.She that was so proud and wild,Flippant, arrogant and free,She that had no need of me,Is a little lonely childLost in Hell,—Persephone,Take her head upon your knee;Say to her, “My dear, my dear,It is not so dreadful here.”

“His head moved down, his mouth taking hers in a kiss that held the passion of a thousand years as his body molded against her trembling frame. His lips were hard and hungry as he fought against her resistance, and he pulled his head away for a moment, looking down into her desperate eyes with no pity at all. “Open your mouth, Rachel,” he said.And closing her eyes, she did, sliding her helpless arms around his body, pulling him closer against her yearning form. Just once, she told herself. Just this once. And she gave herself up to the searching demand of his kiss.”

“Like other ghosts, she whispers; not for me to join her, but so that, when I'm close enough, she can push me back into the world.”

“Give me,” she said.“Don’t you mean please give me?”“You want me to beg?”That smile spread slightly. “Nah. I just heard you beg plenty.”“I did not beg.” But she had. She so had. Still grinning, still naked, he pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “My panties, Mark.”