" The passage into the cave was so narrow, Shea had to hold her breath to squeeze through. It seemed to go on forever, the rough walls scraping her skin, the oppressive feelings of tons of rock over her head, surrounding her body, waiting to crush her. She couldn’t look at Jacques, who had somehow made his large body thin and weird looking. Carpathians were capable of doing things she didn’t want to think about. How had she gotten herself into this mess?
Sex. A good-looking intense man with black, hungry eyes, and she fell like a lovesick calf. Sex. It ruined many otherwise sane women.
I can read your thoughts. The amusement was soft and caressing, wrapping her up in strong arms.
I was perfectly sane and sensible until I met you. Now look at me. I’m crawling around inside a mountain. Suddenly she stopped and held herself perfectly still. I’m hearing something. Tell me you are not taking me into a cave full of bats. Say it right now, Jacques, or I’m out of here.
I am not taking you into cave filled with bats. "

― Christine Feehan , Dark Desire (Dark, #2)