“Santa Claus has already been here and everything. Want to see what he brought for you?"
"Is it a big present?"
"Very big."
"With a big red bow on it?”
“Used titanium hunting knife: sixty-three dollars.
Value: priceless.”
“Lock and load, everyone,” Lucan said, casting a grave look at the rest of them. “It’s gonna be a long, bloody night.”
“I love you. You are mine. In my heart, I knew that from the beginning. You are my beloved, Tavia, my only one.”
“He wrapped his palm around the back of her neck, possessive but tender as he gazed into his mate’s brown eyes. “She knows she’s got me, anyway she wants me. Forever, if I have anything to say about it.”
“When he spoke, there was an odd vulnerability to his deep voice. As if he were letting her peek inside one of the dark chambers of the heart he seemed so sure he didn’t possess.”
“He was seething, drunk on his own magnificence”
“this female was: dangerous, stealthy, utterly lethal Gen One Breed. And hotter than hell itself.”
“She glanced from Tavia to Chase, then back again to Tavia in utter amazement. “Now, that’s what I call making an entrance.”
“Telling me not to worry about you is like telling me to stop breathing. No can do, babe. You knew that when you signed on with me.”
“Until you, Tavia, there has never been a female Breed. Not one, not ever. Our race began thousands of years ago, when a ship carrying a group of biologically advanced otherworlders crash-landed on this planet.”
“She's letting out her feelings. The scary thing is not being able to do that. When your feelings build up and harden and die inside, then you're in big trouble.”
“There was no point in tears outliving eyes, so she let them fall.”
“But what is most desperately needed is not so much a better appreciation of our neighbor’s religion as a broader, more complete understanding of religion itself.”
“You have your wonderful memories," people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember.”
“With every new reading, I’m gripped by the ending’s harsh lessons. ‘Don’t expect anything of him,’ it seems to be telling me. ‘Even if someday he realizes his own folly, he is dangerous and beyond redemption. Get out!”
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