Have you ever met a dragon that couldn't talk?

Donata Santori looked down at the dead body lying at her feet and thought, ‘Damn, that can’t be a good sign.

I want to know who killed my father,” Peter growled, shrugging off her fingers and pushing himself away from the wall to stand up straight. “If you think you can help me with that, then you are welcome to try.

Go on, just come out with it, whatever it is.” She braced herself against the counter.
Peter glanced down at the tile floor, and then back up at her, and sighed. “Fine. Here it is. Do you think Witches could have killed my father?

Peter,” she whispered. “I don’t suppose this place has a bedroom.”
He laughed softly in her ear. “Twelve of them, actually. Which one do you want to use?”
She laughed back and bit his neck teasingly. “How about all of them? You just pick where we’ll start.

i want you so much I feel like I'm going to explode."
"I hear that Marines are good with explosions," Beka said.