Jaenelle leaned over the narrow window seat, gulping in the winter air. “It hurts so much to live here, Daemon,” she whimpered as he cradled her in his arms. “Sometimes it hurts so much.”

“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “Shh.

The cow-shaped cookies have a beef flavoring, the turkey-shaped cookies have a poultry flavoring, and..."

Jane held up one of the cookies. "Human-flavored?"

Meg stifled a sigh. That would be the first thing on her feedback list: don't make people-shaped cookies. The Wolves were way too interested and all of them leaped to a logical, if disturbing, expectation about the taste.

He gently kissed that scar and felt something changing inside him - just a flutter of change, there and gone, but leaving its mark.

A woman with an education may be able to spend more time sitting in a chair instead of lying on her back. A sound advantage, I should think.

When honor and the Law no longer stand on the same side of the line, how do we choose[?]

Is that why you've been pushing me away? Because of how you look? [...] I waited for you my whole life. Yearned for you my whole life. After Tersa told me you were coming, I spent seven hundred years searching for you[....] I never gave a damn what you looked like--tall, short, fat, thin, plain, beautiful, ugly. Why would I care about what you looked like? The flesh was the shell that housed the glory[....] Even if I couldn't be your physical lover, there are other ways to be a lover and I know them all. So don't stand there and tell me how you feel depends on how you look!