“You know I can’t make her pregnant,” he said. “You know she is lying at least about that, right? After what I’d seen in Moscow, after what my mother taught me, and all during my years“as a garrison soldier, think—what did I tell you about myself and the women I’d been with? Have I ever had it off bareback with anyone? Ever, even once in my whole fucking life?”“Yes,” she said faintly. “With me.”“Yes,” Alexander said, sinking down. “Only with you.” His shoulders slumped. “Because you are holy.” He looked at his hands. “And a fat load of good it’s done me.”

“This is what it's all been about with you," he said in an even tone. "All the fear, all the running. The nightmares." When she nodded, he said, "You called him the devil.""He is." What are you thinking, Scot?"But you... married him?"MacRieve's disgusted with me. "Basically? Yes.""Ceremony and everything?"She swallowed. "He tricked me into it. I-I was only sixteen."A muscle ticked in his cheek and his irises grew pale. "Then know this..."She stopped breathing."Lass, I'm about to make you a widow--”

“Jane, look at me,” he asked, and when she did, he knew she was seeing what she needed in his eyes. “You are the only woman for me–it‟s only ever been you. I told you once before, that I have never loved before you, and I will never love again. Jane,” he said, forcing her face to down to his. “There is no condition on my love. No end to my desire. Don‟t put them there, my love.”

“What do you want?"To know you," she said without hesitation. "All of you. I want to know what makes you feel good.""Your laughter," he said without hesitation. "Feeling your hands on me. The way you look at me, whether I've been a complete dumbass, or just made you come-"With a laugh, she ducked her head, but he dipped his down until she was looking at him again. "You want to know what scared me?" he asked. "Yes"He leaned even closer and slid a hand to the nape of her neck. "The thought of never having those things with you again."-Chloe and Sawyer (Head over Heels)”

“After a while Mary said, “Zsadist?”“Yeah?”“What are those markings?”His frowned and flicked his eyes over to her, thinking, as if she didn’t know? But then . . . well, she had been a human. Maybe she didn’t. “They’re slave bands. I was . . . a slave.”“Did it hurt when they were put on you?”“Yes.”“Did the same person who cut your face give them to you?”“No, my owner’s hellren did that. My owner . . . she put the bands on me. He was the one who cut my face.”“How long were you a slave?”“A hundred years.”“How did you get free?”“Phury. Phury got me out. That’s how he lost his leg.”“Were you hurt while you were a slave?”Z swallowed hard. “Yes.”“Do you still think about it?”“Yes.” He looked down at his hands, which suddenly were in pain for some reason. Oh, right. He’d made twofists and was squeezing them so tightly his fingers were about to snap off at the knuckles.“Does slavery still happen?”“No. Wrath outlawed it. As a mating gift to me and Bella.”“What kind of slave were you?”Zsadist shut his eyes. Ah, yes, the question he didn’t want to answer. For a while it was all he could do to force himself to stay in the chair. But then, in a falsely level voice, he said,“I was a blood slave. I was used by a female for blood.”The quiet after he spoke bore down on him, a tangible weight.“Zsadist? Can I put my hand on your back?”His head did something that was evidently a nod, because Mary’s gentle palm came down lightly on hisshoulder blade. She moved it in a slow, easy circle.“Those are the right answers,” she said. “All of them.”He had to blink fast as the fire in the furnace’s window became blurry. “You think?” he said hoarsely.“No. I know.”

“Heart turned to me, his face thought­ful. “Yes­ter­day morn­ing. Yes, that means that Daphne hadn’t been home for two days be­fore that.” He smiled at me. “You were sup­posed to be the Al­pha’s eye can­dy.”Adam laughed.“What?” I asked him. “You don’t think I’d be good eye can­dy?” I looked down at my over­alls and grease-​stained hands. I’d torn an­oth­er nail to the quick.“Hon­ey is eye can­dy,” said Ben apolo­get­ical­ly. “You’re . . . just you.”“Mine,” said Adam, edg­ing be­tween Heart and me. “Mine is what she is.”