Betty’s accent was everything Cent’s wasn’t-deep and New England. Her ending R sounds were more like an H, and her word choices…they’d all but needed dictionaries to understand each other when they’d met the year before.

Stowne leaned in to kiss her, their mouth warm, soft as fine sand and still smiling.

I love you. Witchy, itchy, or otherwise.

Cheap romance novels are never good books.” “They are widely read, and I find their sheer predictable content calming. Hence, good.

Dane, you honor us with your presence.” Stowne rose from their seat to bow before the Hunter king. “You are welcome here anytime.”“Oh, save it. You got her, I don’t.” Dane flexed her wings in a sign of power. “But it’s Samhain, and I wanted to see how our girl’s doin’.” Our girl? “I’m well thank you, but I’m not, nor will I ever be yours.” She glanced toward Dane’s wives, both of whom scowled at her. “Your positions are safe, trust me.”“That sounds stupid comin’ from a Hunter.

Dane liked luxury weapons, and taxidermy, in that order, and displayed all three in her spacious underground bedchamber. She liked women too, but she yelled for her wives to fly elsewhere the minute she entered with Cent in her hand.

That greed of yours has got to be a skeeter in more than just my drawers.

Ain’t no one leavin’ this party ’til I do.

Your balance is imbalance.

She is bone-chilled and a bit battered, but she breathes.