Gretchen

“The sword’s a really nice touch—did you get it at Faire Makers?—but I’m not buying the attitude. It’s not really Merit. You should be channeling your inner vampire sex warrior. Like this,” she said, then put her hands on her hips, canted out one leg, and smiled sensually. “What?” was all I could think to say. “Maybe a little more cleavage, too.” “Cleavage.” She nodded, winked. “A vampire sex warrior can never show too much cleavage.”
― Chloe Neill, Blood Games

“I accept that he has a past. I wasn’t a saint before we met.” She slid me a glance. “I wasn’t.” “You were a nerdy English lit student; you were as close as it gets without beatification.”
― Chloe Neill, Blood Games

“Oh, François,” I breathily said. “You’ll have to hurry. My boyfriend will be back soon.” Ethan grunted and slipped his arms around mine, pulling him tight against my body. “My desire is impatient,” he said in a French accent that was surprisingly believable. “It will not wait, and damn your boyfriend.” I turned to face him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and caught his bottom lip gently between my teeth. “Then by all means, François, let’s get to it.”
― Chloe Neill, Blood Games

“There was a time,” he finally said, “when I would have acknowledged your reticence and given you time and space to reach your own decision.”
He tipped my head down again and slid his fingers to the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Then he lowered his lips to my ear.
“This is not that time, Merit.”
And then his mouth was on mine, and he took my breath away again. He kissed me like a man possessed, like a man with nothing more on his mind but the taste and feel of me.
Like a man returned to life.”
― Chloe Neill, Drink Deep