Erica Inger

“A second floor window opened, and Kyle stuck his head and shoulders out so he could look down at us. “If you two are finished playing Cowboy and Indian out there, some of us would like to get their beauty sleep.”

I looked at Warren. “You heard ‘um Kemo Sabe. Me go to my little wigwam and get ‘um shut-eye.”

“How come you always get to play the Indian?” whined Warren, deadpan.

“Cause she’s the Indian, white boy,” said Kyle.”
― Patricia Briggs, Iron Kissed

“Mine," he said.

Adam's eyes narrowed. "I don't think so. She is mine."

It would have been flattering, I thought, except that at least one of them was talking about dinner and I wasn't certain about the other.”
― Patricia Briggs, Moon Called

“My grandfather would have loved to have met you," he told her huskily. "He would have called you 'She Moves Trees Out of His Path.' "

She looked lost, but his da laughed. He'd known the old man, too.

"He called me 'He Who Must Run into Trees,'" Charles explained, and in a spirit of honesty, a need for his mate to know who he was, he continued, "or sometimes 'Running Eagle.' "

" 'Running Eagle'?" Anna puzzled it over, frowning at him. "What's wrong with that?"

"Too stupid to fly," murmured his father with a little smile.”
― Patricia Briggs, Hunting Ground

“For Adam, screwed-up bonding thing or not, I’d wait forever.
“Really?” he asked in a tone I’d never heard from him before. Softer. Vulnerable. Adam didn’t do vulnerable.

“Really what?” I asked.
“Despite the way our bond scares you, despite the way someone in the pack played you, you’d still have me?”
He'd been listening to my thoughts. This time it didn't bother me.

“Adam,” I told him, “I’d walk barefoot over hot coals for you.”
― Patricia Briggs, Silver Borne