“It isn't just the life of a maiden I needed, you know," the Goblin King said quietly. I glanced sharply at him, his tone had changed. "It was what a maiden can give me." "And what is that?" His smile was crooked. "Passion." Heat flared in my cheeks. "Not that sort of passion," he said quickly. Did I imagine things, or were his cheeks tinged a faint pink? "Well, yes, that too. Passion of all sorts," he said. "Intensity.”
Book:Wintersong