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beware the female whose desire to hurt burns hotter than her desire to heal.”
“Are you a man or a woman?” Dawsyn asks abruptly. Her expression inscrutable. Salem mutters an oath beneath his breath, but Ryon only grins, watching her. Esra contemplates her before answering. “I’d rather think I transcend either, my dear.” “But what do I call you?” “Call me Esra, call me darling, call me bitch, for all I care,” he says, his hand reaching for hers. “But never lower me to such mundane names as man or woman. For the purposes of our impending friendship, though, I suppose you can say he when you must, if only for lack of a better word.”
“Not a desirable trait, is it? For a woman to be arrogant? On a man, it charms, but in women, it corners us. A self-assured woman is either a harlot or embittered.”
“Esra, yer mouth needs a fuckin’ exorcism

