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“Grace was breathing heavily when she crested a hill that was a lot steeper than she had originally though. She stood looking over the land even as a cold breeze blew past her. She wrapped her arms around herself. Though she had traveled extensively all over Europe, she continued to set her stories in Scotland. Her father used to laugh about it, telling her that there must be something in Scotland drawing her to the land. She used to roll her eyes at his teasing. Now she wondered if he hadn't been right.”

“She looked Con up and down. ... "I went to do your stupid ass a favor. Next time I'll decline." She started to turn away when his hand wrapped around her arm to hold her. Rhi looked down at his fingers, then at his face. "I doona trust you." "You never have," she responded coolly. "This is nothing new." He yanked her close so that their faces were inches apart. "If you betray us, there's nowhere you can hid where I won't find you. And kill you." She smiled, briefly debating putting her lips to his and seeing his reaction. Right before she teleported away, she said, "Kiss my grits.”

“The Dragon King's gaze turned to her. Darcy watched him standing in the glow of the streetlight, completely mesmerized by the dragon tat that ran from the King's right shoulder, under his armpit, and down his side to the top of his right thigh. The dragon's head was at the front of the man's shoulder and had his mouth open as if on a roar. He was rearing with his wings up and out. It was his long tail that stopped at the King's thigh. The King glistened with sweat that made his muscles gleam in the light. Darcy had the absurd notion to run her hands all over his body, learning the feel of his hard muscles and warm skin.”

“How long has it been since you and your King were together?" he asked. Rhi looked away, the tears returning again. "A very long time, but not so long that I don't remember the taste of his kiss or the way he would look at me and smile." "You'll never move on unless you let go. What you need is another lover." She cut him a look. "Are you applying for the position?" "Would you take me?”

“Suddenly, Warrick lifted his head. Darcy struggled to open her eyes and think through the fog of desire. She gazed into his cobalt eyes, her stomach clenching at the longing she saw reflected there. "There's a Dark at the back," he whispered. Darcy was so frustrated that she wanted to scream. Why couldn't they have a few minutes of privacy? If it wasn't Rhi popping in, it was the Dark after her. "Tell him to go away. We're busy." A sexy grin pulled at Warrick's lips. "Gladly.”

“All I know is that I like how I feel when I'm with you. I love how protective you are and that you aren't afraid to say you're sorry. I like how you touch me and kiss me. I like how you hold me, but more than anything, I like the possibilities that are before us." "We're in the middle of a war," he warned. She shrugged and ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to clasp around his neck. "Every couple has their own issues to get through.”

“Seeing that glorious body and to-die-for face only made her crave him more. Then he had kissed her. And what a kiss! It was a kiss like none other. There was fire and a hunger that was both savage as well as tender. At first. Then the fire had come. The kiss had charred her, searing her from the inside out. Each touch of his tongue, each time those lips of his moved over here, had been the most incredible feeling in the world.”

“Grace flattened her palm on his chest. "I've not been writing it correctly." "Writing what, exactly?" "Passion. I forgot what it was," she whispered. "I went off what I saw in movies or read, but I haven't...experienced...it in many years." He didn't like thinking about other men being with her, but they were in the past. Where they would remain. "Were they no' good lovers?" "They were all right, but without passion, it all feels...empty." Arian tightened his arm around her before he rolled her onto her back so he could look into her face. "I'll be happy to show you several times a day.”

“Dreagan is Scotland," Asher said. "The land draws you in a way you can no' begin to understand. You feel the majesty and magic of the ancient land. From the tallest mountain to the lowest valley, in the leaves of the trees and in the currents of the streams, you feel an overwhelming and unshakable need to want to be a part of such a place. To want to belong. It doesn't confine you. Instead, it cradles you, offering its beauty and solitude for those who answer its call. It's wild and free. It's fierce and unbreakable. It's home.”

“He set his whisky tumbler on the table, but kept his fingers around it. "What do you see in my eyes?"... "Tell me, lass," he urged softly. She suddenly understood the term 'old soul,' because one sat before her now. And, as if opening a book, she caught a glimpse of Asher. The words then tumbled out of her mouth. "Endlessness. Sorrow. Agony. Distress. Rage.”