Hannah

“We can shape-shift whenever we like."
She made a face. "You mean all those hideous stories are true? Rats and bats and slimy worm things?"
"Now, why would I want to be a slimy worm thing?" He was openly laughing. The sound startled him; he couldn't remember laughing aloud.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Youever insult Bride again, I swear I'll rip your throat out and feed you to the
gators in the swamp. You understand me?" - Vane”
― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Night Play

“I love you.” He grinned unexpectedly, traced he lower lip with the tip of a finger. “What is more, I know you love me. You hide it from yourself, but I found it in a little corner, tucked away in your mind.”
Shea stared up at the teasing smile on his face, then pushed at the solid wall of his chest. “You’re making that up.”
Jacques moved off her, then reached down to pull her to her feet. His clothes were scattered everywhere, and he made no move to retrieve them. Shea’s shirt was still hanging open, and her jeans were down around her ankles. Blushing, she pulled them up. His hand stayed hers, preventing her from fastening them. “Do not bother, Shea. The pools are just ahead.” He walked a few feet, then looked back over his shoulder. “I did not make it up, and I know you are staring at my backside.”
Shea tossed her mane of red hair so that it flew in all directions. “Any woman in her right mind would stare at your particular backside, so you don’t need to add that to your arrogant list of virtues. And stay out of my mind unless you’re invited.” She was staring, but she couldn’t help it. He was so beautifully masculine.
Jacques reached behind him and captured her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But I find the most interesting things in your mind, my love. Things you do not have any intention of telling me.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“None of this…none of this…whatever you call this.” She waved her hand to encompass everything. Kissing. Taking her blood. Seducing her. Ordering her around. Setting perimeters. All of it.
His black gaze never left her face. His eyes as still as those of a leopard scenting prey. Avid. Burning. Intense. He took her breath away with his eyes. Hypnotized her. Cast a spell over her.
Tempest pulled her gaze from his, from the seductive, black velvet trap. “And stop that, too,” she said decisively, despite the fact that he made her hungry for him.
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me that way, it’s definitely out. You can’t look at me that way. It’s cheating.”
“How am I looking at you?” His deep voice dropped even lower, the cadence soft and husky. Mesmerizing. “Okay, that’s out, too. No talking in that tone of voice,” she declared staunchly. “And you know very well what you’re doing. Act normal.”
His white teeth gleamed at her, nearly stopping her heart. “I am acting normal, Tempest.”
“Well, then, that’s out, too. No acting normal.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Fire