She was so touch-deprived it bordered on cruelty, and I planned to make up for every stolen moment—to hold her, to care for her, until every fiber of her body and every corner of her soul recognized she was loved by me.

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

Daria wasn’t just ice—she was fire too. She would burn for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. She carried a quiet, unseen goodness, the kind that refused to be extinguished no matter how much darkness tried to swallow it. It was still there, even after men like her father and Malinov had spent decades trying to snuff it out. And as for all the blood on her hands, I knew—knew—she had never wanted it there.

She hadn’t been born a killer. She’d been made into one.

Forced into the Kremlin’s machine, raised under her father’s brutal rule, taught that love was a weakness and that her only loyalty was to the men who controlled her. Every lesson had been beaten into her. Every moment of softness was something she’d had to carve out of herself just to survive. And despite all of it, she had still chosen to protect the innocent. She had still risked her life for the Ukrainian people. For me.

~Braxton Thorin, Mission Shift

Her words ignited a fire within me, a burn that would forever mark my soul. I pulled her closer, tenderly capturing her lips. Holding her face in my hands, I poured all of myself into that one kiss—my promise to protect her, my desire to worship her body forever, my unwavering commitment to her until the end of our days.

~Conan Thorin, Day Shift

Noelle was a challenge I couldn’t refuse, an adventure that would either be the best damn thing I’d ever experienced or would blow up spectacularly in my face.

~Captain Kol Vinter, Christmas Cancellation

Tonight I wanted to be wrecked, to be so consumed by someone that I couldn’t remember my name, much less all the screwed-up things life had thrown at me. Kol was the kind of man who could do that; I could tell just by the way he moved. I wanted him to worship every inch of me, to let him light up every one of my nerves like a Christmas tree.

~Noelle Nichols, Christmas Cancellation

If Lucian had wanted me dead, I’d be dead. If he’d wanted to hurt me, use me, trade me, ransom me—he’d have done it already. Instead, he handled me as though I were breakable. As though I mattered. As though losing me would cost him everything.

And the way he’d looked at me when he told me I was pretty, it hadn’t sounded like a line.

It had sounded as if I were the very air he needed to breathe.

~Scarlett Hayes, Eyes of the Unholy

I stayed silent, watching her breath. I wanted to freeze time, to hold on to this moment forever. No woman had ever affected me this deeply. Maybe it was her innocence—the fact that she was a blank slate due to her amnesia, free to write her story anew without the weight of past memories. God, how I longed to help her fill those empty spaces.

~Conan Thorin, Day Shift

I nodded, trying to pull myself together. Embarrassment washed over me as I realized how exposed I was, both physically and emotionally. Quickly, I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I’m fine. God, I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing. I’m just tired and—”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, taking my face in both hands. “Don’t say you’re being stupid.”

I froze.

“What you’re experiencing is how sexual pleasure should always make you feel. Giving a man that special piece of yourself is the best gift he could ever receive. You deserve to be adored and pleasured in every way, to be praised and feel loved. Your body is your temple, and any man should be lucky enough to worship before it.”

My heart cracked wide open.

~Daria Melnichenko, Mission Shift

She was a match, and I was soaked in gasoline.

Now every part of my life—my empire, my secrets, my control—was at risk of going up in flames, all because of one girl who spun through the air with the grace of an angel, tempting men to risk damnation just to touch her.

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You

She bit her bottom lip. Nervous tic or calculated move, I couldn’t tell, but it drew my eyes down to that goddamn mouth of hers. Soft. Full. Screaming to be ruined.

“You’re full of yourself,” she snapped, clearly catching my stare. “But let me guess. You think girls like me should be seen and not heard, right?”

“No,” I said coolly. “I think girls like you should be f***ed face down until that pretty mouth learns when to stay busy and when to stay silent—until obedience stops being a choice.”

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You