“If I may say, Rich, your wife is looking lovelier with each passing day.”“You may,” Rich’s muffled words fell against the large red apple in his mouth. He carried a plate of various fresh fruit and the bowl of spaghetti Jace had pointed out earlier. He set the plates down and took the apple out of his mouth while he munched on a piece. “She can’t hear it enough times with the discomfort, aches, pains, bloating and cramping she feels.”“Why don’t you also share the gas, cravings and the sudden violent tendencies I get, honey?” Joanna said flippantly as she reached for the spaghetti.“Ah!” Rich smacked her hand away and moved the bowl out of her reach. He pushed the fruit bowl forward in its place. “That’s healthier for our kids.”“They want messy pasta right now.”“Tell them they don’t always get what they want.”“Their mother wants messy pasta right now.”“Tell her she doesn’t always get what she wants.”Joanna leaned forward, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrow. “Once the children are born, papa won’t be getting what he wants late at night when he gives me that “I’m in heat” look. I’m sure of that.”Rich’s hand on the apple froze. Slowly he chewed, looking up at Jace and Gael whose gazes had been volleying back and forth on the couple as they spoke. Reluctantly, he pushed the spaghetti bowl forward. He reached for the fruit bowl but winced when Joanna smacked his hand away and pulled both bowls in front of her.”

“Jace set what he was holding down on the windowsill and reached out to her. She came to lean against him, and his hand slid up under her t-shirt and rested caressingly, possessively, on the small of her back. He bent to kiss her, gently at first, but the gentleness went quickly and soon she was pressed up against the glass of the window, his hands at the hem of her shirt — his shirt —“Jace.” She moved a little bit away. “I’m pretty sure people down there in the street can see us.”“We could …” He gestured toward the bed. “Move…over there.”She grinned. “You said that like it took you a while to come up with the idea.”When he spoke, his voice was muffled against her neck. “What can I say, you make my thought processes slow down. Now I know what it’s like to be a normal person.” “How … is it?” The things he was doing with his hands under the t-shirt were distracting.“Terrible. I’m already way behind on my quota of witty comments for the day.”

“[Olive’s] left foot was bleeding through a wide swath of bandages onto the tarp it was resting on. The bowl next to her was full of blood.Olive looked a little pale. “I don’t think I should move,” she said.“What are you doing?” Roger shut the door behind him and stood with his back to it.“I decided I might try to eat my toes,” Olive said, closing her eyes. “But now that I’ve started, I don’t think I should move.”Roger pushed himself off the wall and knelt down next to her. He unbuckled her silver belt and reached with it under her dress. He looped the belt around the top of her leg and tightened it. His hands were not shaking. “Sit on the loose end,” he said, pushing it under her. “I hope that works.”“You brought flowers,” she said, blinking.“Olive,” he said. “You cut off your toes.”She looked down at the bowl. “Are they still toes?” she asked.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kath protested, getting to her feet. Keath was telling her how to kill him.“I just need you to know.” Keath got to his feet too. He reached out and up his hands firmly on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t. There was something in Keath’s eyes. He was afraid of something, something he didn't want to tell her, as though he didn't want to scare her anymore.“I want to know that if it I need to be stopped,” Keath continued. “You will be able to stop me. Just promise me that you will, Kathleen.”

“She shouldn’t have been beautiful—she was too forward, too freckled, too thin. Still… Oh, to hell with it all. He wasn’t hungry, anyway. He reached out and took her hand, drawing her to him. She drifted near, until she was close enough to kiss. Close enough for him to see the green of her eyes, widening as he turned her hand over, palm up.“There’s something I’ve wanted to do since the first moment I saw you,” he said. It came out close to a whisper.“Oh?” He could feel the puff of breath from that word against his nose.“Don’t even think of arguing.”She shook her head. Her lips opened, an impossible, inviting fraction.He set the fork in the palm of her hand and closed his fingers tightly around hers. “I want you to eat,” he said.”

“She froze. He reached up and took her hand in his, pulling the knife away, making her drop it on the floor. "Show me how much you hate me," he whispered against her mouth. "Prove it to me.”