" She was... different from other women in some way he still was unable to understand. She was more pure, more bright, more golden. She called to him on an animal level. Her song had seeped into his veins, his lungs, and his liver until he could no longer divide her from his marrow.
He needed her.
And now he was marrying her, Iris Daniels, Lady Jordan.
The notion was as wrong as that of a spring robin tied to a carrion raven.
Yet he could not stop this monstrosity. More, he'd kill any man who tried to gainsay him.
He wanted her. "

― Elizabeth Hoyt , Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane, #12)