Heir to the Shadows (The Black Jewels, #2)

by Anne Bishop

“If the Dark Council is so misguided they believe Hobart is a better guardian than I am, then they deserve to see some of Hell’s more unusual landmarks, don’t you think?”

Jaenelle and the wolves were out doing walkies—a silly word that struck him as an accurate description of the intricate, furry dance three wolves would perform around her while taking a late afternoon stroll.

“But, Lucivar,” she said weakly, “what if it’s my fault that he’s aroused and needs relief?” He snorted, amused. “You didn’t actually fall for that, did you?”

“Forgiveness doesn’t work that way. You may want to forgive me, but you can’t do it yet. Forgiving someone can take weeks, months, years. Sometimes it takes a lifetime. Until Daemon is whole again, all we can do is try to be kind to one another, and understanding, and take each day as it comes.”

Care to agree to my terms now, or shall we all snarl a bit longer?*

“A houseful of little Lucivars,” she said faintly. They both groaned.

Is it true that the length of your”—her ice-blue eyes flicked to Lucivar’s groin—“is in direct proportion to your wings?”