“A king who trusts no man is weak.”

“A man who will risk nothing for love is not a man”

“Never trust a mechanic who drives new cars. They're either charging too much money for their work, or they can't keep an old car running - maybe both.”

“This was not a man who wanted to give up his mate. This was a man trying to do the honorable thing—and give her a choice, no matter hiw much it cost him.”

“We who are dominant tend to think of that aspect of being a werewolf as rank: who is obeyed, who is to obey. Dominant and submissive. But it is also who is to protect and who is to be protected. A submissive wolf is not incapable of protecting himself: he can fight, he can kill as readily as any other. But a submissive doesn't feel the need to fight -- not the way a dominant does. They are a treasure in a pack. A source of purpose and of balance. Why does a dominant exist? To protect those beneath him, but protecting a submissive is far more rewarding because a submissive will never wait until you are wounded or your back is turned to see if you are truly dominant to him. Submissive wolves can be trusted. And they unite the pack with the goal of keeping them safe and cared for.”

“Then he snarled at her. “You are not leaving me.”It was an order, and she didn’t have to follow anyone’s orders. That was part of being Omega instead of a regular werewolf – who might have had a snowball’s chance in hell of being a proper mate.“You need someone stronger,” Anna told him again. “So you wouldn’t have to hide when you’re hurt. So you could trust your mate to take care of herself and help, damn it, instead of having to protect me from whatever you are hiding.” She hated crying. Tears were weaknesses that could be exploited and they never solved a damned thing. Sobs gathered in her chest like a rushing tide and she needed to get away from him before she broke.Instead of fighting his grip, she tried to slide out of it. “I need to go,” she said to his chest. “I need–”His mouth closed over hers, hot and hungry, warming her mouth as his body warmed her body.“Me,” Charles said, his voice dark and gravelly as if it had traveled up from the bottom of the earth, his eyes a bright gold. “You need me.”

“Yes,” I told him. “I think the guy playing the Pirate King was awesome.”He stopped where he was.“What?” I asked, frowning at the big smile on his face.“I didn’t say I liked the Pirate King,” he told me.“Oh.” I closed my eyes—and there he was. A warm, edgy presence right on the edge of my perception. When I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me. “Cool,” I told him. “You’re back.”He kissed me leisurely. When he was finished, I was more than ready to head home. Fast.“You make me laugh,” he told me seriously.”