“It’s strange learning where you came from after you’ve already become who you are.”

Lachlan was quiet for a moment.

“Blood can tell you where you came from, Mouse. Doesn’t mean anyone gets to decide where you go next.”

It wasn’t merely his pale aquamarine irises, sun-darkened skin, and black hair that held me captive. It was the unspoken threat and raw power within him that stripped me of my own will.

It was as if he could read my thoughts, latch onto my soul, and yank it from my very body.

Whoever he was, he was dangerous and had developed a twisted interest in me—wanted something from me—and that wasn’t good. The anger he exuded told me that much.

~Lyla Oakley, Eyes on You

“And when you make love to me, you don’t touch me like something that needs to be repaired. You know exactly what men did to me, and your hands still move over me like every inch of my body is something you want. You don’t make me feel damaged or fragile. You make me feel like a woman you can’t get enough of.”

“It was only a simple kiss,” I said. “It’s not like you threw me against a wall and f***ed me until I didn’t know my name—not that I know my name, but you get my drift. Besides, I all but fell into your lap and begged you to kiss me. No need to be dramatic. It was no big deal.” I huffed.

~Anastasia Volkov, Day Shift

A Manhattan mafia man and a princess hidden inside a cartel compound on the side of a Salvadoran volcano should never have met.

Certainly not in a dungeon with me chained to a chair and her holding the key.

I would never call the lies, torture, blood, or loss that brought us here a gift. But chance no longer seemed big enough to explain how two lives that should never have touched had somehow collided in the darkest of places.

He let the silence stretch before delivering the final blow.

“And you’re right about one thing,” he said coldly. “I am a killer. I’ve ended lives without flinching. But there’s a difference between violence and violation. I don’t touch women who can’t say no. I don’t trade flesh for profit. And I sure as hell don’t parade innocents on a stage so monsters can place their bids.”

~Lyla Oakley, Eyes on You

I didn’t care if I died. That beast was going to taste my wrath on her lips.

“I love you, my little bird. With everything in me. I love every part of you—your red hair, your sharp tongue, the strength you hide behind that fire. There will never be another woman for me. I’ll die with your name on my lips.”

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

By the time he’d finished the song, I was so wrapped up in his playing and the sound of his voice that I hadn’t realized how much my imagination had run wild. I was having a vivid daydream about those very fingers, imagining how well he could play—me—and betting mentally that he could make me sing too.

~Anastasia Volkov, Day Shift

Just as he’d predicted, my body felt ruined for future men, spoiled by the touch of the sexy doctor.

~Samantha Sheridan, Night Shift