“That is not an adequate response, faerie,” he growled. His Power lay in the room, a heavy brooding presence. “I require a series of words strung together that make coherent sentences.”

“Oh, I don’t want to pat you on the head, faerie,” he said low in his throat in a deep purring growl that vibrated through her body. He bent closer until his lips brushed hers. “I want to fuck your mouth.”

“The low, rough sound he emitted at that was infuriating, fascinating. Wait. Was he still growling? Or was he purring? His eyes drifted half closed. He gave her a heavy-lidded, sleepy, sensual, entirely disingenuous look.”

“His head jerked up. He had one of the most startling and unwelcome thoughts of the last century. Am I a boyfriend?He growled and jerked the door open.”

“He felt goaded by her impenetrability, by what clawed at him from within. He started to growl. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Are you growling at me?”

“Goddammit, T-bird, he said. I love that faerie as much as any of us, but I couldn’t watch and do nothing while she becomes your Titanic.”

“That may be so, but his faerie had suffered too much and he had had more than enough. If anybody so much as looked at her funny, he was going to come down hard on them with both size fourteen steel-toed boots. Then he would consider seriously the merits of evisceration.”