“Am I joining The Syndicate?”

“No.” His answer came with quiet amusement. “You’re doing something considerably more dangerous.”

“Oh?”

“Loving one of its men.”

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

“You walked into Xyst, throwing legal daggers at men who know how to throw them back. Trust me, our aim is better, and now we have more targets.”

“I want to teach you things you’ve never even thought to ask for.” His teeth caught my earlobe. “I want to ruin you for every other man.”

A shiver moved through me.

“Ruining,” I sighed.

His lips curved against my neck.

“Aye. Ruining you.”

His free hand drifted lower over my stomach.

“Spoil you so fucking badly that no other man ever has a chance.”

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

A dangerous escape, bullets in the air, and Lachlan still manages to wreck Isabella with two words.

“Good girl.”

Under any other circumstances, those two words would have done terrible things to my concentration.

At the moment, I was mostly trying not to get shot.

Every selfish part of me wanted to tell her she was already mine.

But I refused to use the worst day of her life to decide the rest of it for her.

She’d challenged me straight out of the gate, and every ounce of instinct I had wanted to meet that challenge head-on. People always have a way of chasing what’s bad for them, and I wasn’t immune.

~Captain Kol Vinter, Christmas Cancellation

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

In the room’s silence, with only the soft hum of medical equipment for company, I poured out my heart to her unconscious form, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that she would somehow hear me, feel my love, and find her way back.

~Dr. Atticus Thorin, Night Shift