Her innocence and vulnerability made me weak in a way I hated. As I looked at the towel at her feet, felt her bare skin pressed against me, and inhaled the scent of her, the edges of my control started to fray.

I should’ve stepped away the second her arms started to wrap around me.

But I didn’t. Because a dark part of me—the bratva-born part—wanted to mark her. Ruin her.

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You

She can hiss and spit all she wants, but I’m taking possession of her future one way or another. Feral just means special handling.

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

Eyes never lie, and hers told me she’d just bet her life on my word. Maybe it was courage. Maybe desperation. Maybe fate had finally decided to put someone worth protecting in my path. Whatever had brought a beautiful woman to her knees between mine with my freedom in her hand, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I would die before I let her regret choosing me.

“My love has no borders, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Wherever you are, wherever you choose to be, I will be at your side.”

~Braxton Thorin, Mission Shift

For years, the dungeon beneath my bedroom taught me what happened to men who defied my father. Then they dragged in the Irishman—blindfolded, beaten, and chained—and, for the first time, the dungeon held a man who refused to beg, bargain, or break.

My father could hurt and humiliate him, but he couldn’t make him kneel.

For the first time in my life, hope had a voice—and it was Irish, furious, and defiant.

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

I was intrigued by this fiery-mouthed woman wrapped in freckles and flame. She stirred something within me, a hunger for redemption—mine and perhaps even hers.

~Dr. Atticus Thorin, Night Shift

And when she’d met my eyes—when she’d chosen defiance, chosen provocation—something inside me detonated.

Not romance. Not tenderness.

Claim.

Possession.

A dark, ruthless certainty that she was going to be mine to protect, mine to keep, mine to ruin the world for if I had to. And she had no idea.

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

He, a man who took what he wanted, had no way of knowing that he held a woman who had never been taken. He had no idea I was still a virgin, that I’d never done any of this before.

I’d kept it to myself, thinking I would know when the right time would be for my first lover.

And now, somehow, the right time looked a hell of a lot like being pinned against a wall and f***ed by a man who’d stalked me for weeks.

~Lyla Oakley, Eyes on You

“Next time I kiss you, I’m not stopping because I’ve suddenly decided to be noble.” His gaze stayed on mine. “I’m going to kiss you until you’re holding on to me to stay upright, put my hands everywhere I’ve been thinking about putting them since that dungeon, and find out how many of those pretty little sounds I can drag out of you before you’re begging me for more.”