Mercy," he mumbled. "What the hell did you do to my French Roast?

Cheeses crusty, got all musty, got damp on the stone of a peach.

Wolves eat coyotes," Gordon said[...] If he weren't an old man, I had some rude things I could have said to that.

"Yes," observed Adam blandly. "I do."

Yep. That was the one that came to mind. And he didn't even blush when he said it. Maybe Gordon would miss the double entendre. But he grinned cheerfully at Adam.

Jesse must have heard me because she stuck her head out of her bedroom and then rushed over. “Can I help?”

I looked down to see what caused the consternation in her face. It wasn’t my nakedness. She’d grown up with werewolves, and shapeshifters can’t afford too much modesty. [...]

No, it wasn’t my nakedness; it was the blood. I was covered with it.

Appalled, I looked behind me at the carpet that was stained with my blood all the way up the stairs. “Darn it,” I said. “That’s going to be expensive to clean.

Love thy enemies, it says in the scriptures. My foster mother always added, "At the very least, you will be polite to them.

Warren made a noise, the first one I'd heard out of him since we'd come into the room. I'd have been happier if he hadn't sounded scared.
"Easy, Warren," Adam told him. "You're safe here.”
"If you die on us, you won't be," said Kyle with a growl that would have done credit to any of the werewolves in the room.