He wondered what she would taste of — fantasized about how gunpowder and scorched earth would weigh on his tongue.

He could kiss her, or he could bite her. Both possibilities were equally tempting.

He was an animal. He'd drawn blood and now he needed to fuck, to cover her with his scent, to tell the world, She is mine. Stay away.

I won't tell anyone you sparkle. I promise.

I'd rather take you to my lair.

We would not live ever after, but hunt together forevermore.

Sin. Repent. Repeat.

He'd never sought to mark a woman's flesh these shades of indigo and violet for pleasure.

Her voice was a sensual, confiding whisper, and he clung to ever rapturous word."You take the grenade, I'll take the pin.