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1 " Civil order mattered. Zoe didn’t know why Farah continued to wear the headscarf, but most Middle-Eastern women wore modest clothing to anchor themselves to a moral order, in an upside-down world. Zoe wore the chador as a protective shell, to erase herself, to avoid thinking, to envelop herself in the complete custody of her adopted Muslim sisters. In their care she would come out healed, able to process the bigotry that caused the murder of her Jewish parents. Then, when she was whole again, she would reclaim her place in the world. Though others couldn’t see it, behind the nameless, shapeless, Middle-Eastern garb, she was healing. The chador cocooned and nurtured her. Dour exteriors meant blossoming interiors . . . to Zoe. Judaism centered her, but Islam shielded her. Both served their purpose . . . for now. "
― Michael Ben Zehabe
2 " I think this dress will stun the nobility, and leave them stupefied with envy and lust," Madame Sandrine announced with relish." I'm just glad it's not crimson, like everything else you drape," Farah said to her husband as she glanced at her transformation in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors across from the raised podium on which she stood. The creation of blue silk evoked the midnight sky, as it wrapped her bosom and waist in bejeweled gathers before cascading from her hips in a dark waterfall. The shamelessly cut bodice was lent a hint of respectability by folds of a shimmering diaphanous silver material draping from a choker of gems about her neck and flowing down her shoulders like moonbeams. To call them sleeves would have been a mistake, for all they concealed.Madame Sandrine threw a teasing look over her shoulder at Blackwell. " How fitting that the color of blood is the one you prefer the most." " Not for her," Dorian rumbled.The seamstress lifted a winged eyebrow, but didn't comment. " Voila. I believe that is all I'll need from you today, Madame Blackwell. I can have these finished in the morning, and in the meantime I have a lovely soft gray frock hemmed with tiny pink blossoms that will bring out the color in your cheeks. "
3 " Shrugging, I glanced at Judd who was watching someone in the corner. When I looked back at Cooper, he was studying the hair in my eyes. “You look tired,” he said, reaching out to brush away the hair. Cooper’s hand never reached my face before Judd grabbed his wrist and yanked it away. In that instant, everything shifted. The men stepped closer, eyeballing each other as the heat of their anger became palatable. I thought to step between them and calm things before violence broke out. Then, I remembered when I tried to break up a fight between my uncle’s dogs. If Farah hadn’t pulled me out of the way, I’d have been mauled. That day, I learned if predators wanted to fight, you let them while staying as far back as possible. “I’ll let this go because it’s your woman,” Cooper muttered, dark eyes still angry. “If you pull this shit again and it’s not your woman, you and I will have a problem.” Once Cooper walked away, Judd finally relaxed. I just stared at him as he led me to a booth because a group of old timers were at his table. Sitting next to him, I caressed his face, soothing him. He finally gave me a little grin. Suddenly, Vaughn appeared and took the spot across from us. “Why do you look so pissed off?” “He almost went feral on Cooper for trying to touch me.” Vaughn gave us a lazy grin. “So losing his balls makes a man stupid, eh? Good to know. Just another reason to keep mine attached.” Judd exhaled hard. “You wouldn’t want anyone touching your woman. One day, you’ll know that despite your love affair with your balls.” “A man should love his balls,” Vaughn said, still grinning. “What if I touch her?” he asked, his hand moving slowly towards my face. “I’ll stab you in the fucking eye.” Grinning, Vaughn put down his hand. “You’re pretty damn sexy when you go drama queen, O’Keefe.” “He is, isn’t he?” I said, sliding closer to Judd. “I wish we were naked right now.” Both men frowned at me, but I only smiled and Judd adjusted in the booth as his jeans grew too tight. “Stop,” he warned. “I’m not afraid of you.” “I could make a liar of you.” “You won’t though because you wish you were inside me.” Judd exhaled hard like a pissed bull and adjusted in the booth again. I just laughed and rested my head against his shoulder. “I so own you.” Vaughn nodded. “He’s a keeper. I remember how poetic he was when I asked him if he could imagine himself as an old man. He turned to me and grunted. Real profound grunt too. Oh, and once I asked if he ever imagined himself as a father. I kid you not, he burped. The man is fucking Shakespeare. "
― Bijou Hunter , Damaged and the Knight (Damaged, #2)
4 " She’s like a cross between an onion and donkey,” Farah said.“Why?” Jason and Connor asked simultaneously.“Cause she’s a piece of ass that will bring a tear to your eye.” Farah laughed. "
― , Royal Decree (Jason Steed #4)