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“You're trying to piss me off, aren't you?" I said, tossing back the words he'd used on me during our first meeting. He grinned wide, the gesture so quick and stunningly beautiful on him made my breath hitch. "It's so easy," he answered, just as I had. "At least make me work for it." "Don't worry; I will." That shut him up in a hurry. His nostrils flared, all that smiling lightness sliding into something darker, something with promise. Heat coiled around my thighs, as an insistent thud strummed between them.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I snapped. “I’m yours.” That socked me in the gut too, so hard it winded me and all I could do was stare up at him. Taking advantage, his face dipped close and his hands curled around both sides of my head. “First fuckin’ time you smiled at me in my bed, that’s when it happened,” he murmured. “You’re under my skin. I’m under yours.” I shook my head and his face got even closer, all I could see were his sky blue eyes, all I could feel were his lips a breath away from mine. “I like you there, buddy, and you like me there too.”

“You're unsure what you think of him, a fact you pride yourself on. It defines you, this willingness to hear all sides, love everyone. You've stopped believing in evil. Is that a sin? You know what your mother would say, but justice needs to be fair-handed, the dead deserve your compassion. It's your job to understand, to forgive, not simply your custom.”

“You're very different from the man I pictured you to be." I smirk at her, amused. What, so she didn't think I'd be a fucker with a drinking problem who is obviously very much into casual sex and reckless driving on a classic bike? I arch an eyebrow at her and run a hand along my square jaw. "I hope you find me sexier.”

“You're walking funny," Lucy said, a shit-eating grin on her face. Five days of out of this world sex with a starving man could do that to a girl. "You're just jealous." Brenna pushed through the door into DarkRiver's business HQ. Lucy made a mournful face. "Yes, I am. Goddamn but your man is hot. And he smiles at you! I've seen him do it, even if no one believes me.”

“You’re wasting my time,” I said. “Just say everyone I know and love is dead. It’s more efficient.” He laughed quietly. “You’re mouthy.” “And you’re a psychopath.” “You say it like it’s a bad thing. It’s practically a requirement for people in our position.” “Yes, well, David Howling did it better.” “Rogan won’t always be there to do your dirty work.” “Rogan didn’t kill David. I did. He fought me for his life and lost. The next time we meet I’ll pull every dirty secret out of your mind and lay them out in the open. When I’m done, you’ll curl into a ball and weep, just like all the others. That’s how you threaten, Vincent.”

“You’re wearing his symbol,” he observed, his glance flicking to the little gold charm hanging at my neckline. “His symbol and his colour.” “They’re just clothes.” Mal’s lips twisted in a cynical smile, a smile so different from the one I knew and loved that I almost flinched. “You don’t really believe that.” “What difference does it make what I wear?” “The clothes, the jewels, even the way you look. He’s all over you.”

“You're welcome to as much wine as you can drink, Ares." ...[Ares] watched two bare-breasted women stroll by. "Am I welcome to your worshippers as well?" "If they'll have you. Force yourself on anyone, though, and the cat gets to gnaw on your anatomy." Dionysos nodded to Agria, who prowled around the crowd. "Those are the rules." Ares smirked. ... "No problem there. I'm very persuasive." Hermes shook his head at Dionysos and mouthed in comical exaggeration, *No, he's not.*”

“You’re with a girl. She’s brown-haired and side-swept. I imagine that she’s the kind of girl who can easily shop for jean shorts, and speaks kindly more often than not. She seems like the kind of girl who hates New York City because it wreaks havoc on her shoes (really she just thinks it’s a big and scary place), but once had the time of her life in Spain on a backpacking trip when she was 23. Her gaze is focused on the embracing couple as near strangers capable of judgement. She stands bolted next to you like you’re her anchor in the social storm. You two seem finely matched… but what do I know? (Nothing at all.) I accidentally saw a picture of you and it reminded me that I was dating a man rightfully shaking his fist at God, while trying to hold my hand with the other. I was reminded of how fiercely we tried to hold our relationship together, and how devastated and relieved we were in its destruction. There’s water under that bridge. I accidentally saw a picture of you. No big deal. I wrote about it.”