She bit her bottom lip. Nervous tic or calculated move, I couldn’t tell, but it drew my eyes down to that goddamn mouth of hers. Soft. Full. Screaming to be ruined.

“You’re full of yourself,” she snapped, clearly catching my stare. “But let me guess. You think girls like me should be seen and not heard, right?”

“No,” I said coolly. “I think girls like you should be f***ed face down until that pretty mouth learns when to stay busy and when to stay silent—until obedience stops being a choice.”

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You

I shut my eyes, my mind drifting again to my Russian stalker.

The one whose voice played over and over again in my thoughts…my dreams. I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands. His mouth. His angst. The way he’d kissed me, like he hated himself for wanting me.

I couldn’t understand why he kept showing up out of nowhere.

But right now, I wanted that version of him—the one who’d chased me through that building not to hurt me but to get to me first, like he knew monsters lurked in the shadows.

Maybe I didn’t deserve to be saved. I’d been too impulsive. Too trusting.

But God help me—I wanted him to come.

~Lyla Oakley, Eyes on You

She can hiss and spit all she wants, but I’m taking possession of her future one way or another. Feral just means special handling.

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

She was perfect. Beautiful and defiant, soft in all the right places, and strong in ways that sent my imagination spiraling. I loved the way her voice had cracked when she’d told me to let her go…and then moaned when I didn’t.

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You

She looked like temptation incarnate—everything I didn’t want to want. I told myself I was a man of logic. But after seeing the show she put on last night, I couldn’t suppress my baser instincts. I’d watched her move, twist, writhe, and command the attention of every man in the room. She didn’t need to fake seduction—it was in her bones.

This girl, who poured coffee and read romance novels by day, was no innocent flower. Within her was a scorching sun of sensuality.

I wanted her. And I didn’t care if she burned me alive.

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You

“From the moment fate brought me into your emergency department, you became the best example of what a man should be. Honest, even when I couldn’t be truthful about my past. Kind, when no one else was. Giving, to a complete stranger without hesitation. Funny, when things were at their worst. You protected my heart, my soul, and my body. You understood me even when I didn’t understand myself.”

~Anastasia Volkov, Day Shift

“I love you, my little bird. With everything in me. I love every part of you—your red hair, your sharp tongue, the strength you hide behind that fire. There will never be another woman for me. I’ll die with your name on my lips.”

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

“No one will ever hurt you again, not on my watch. I’ll stand between you and the world if I have to. You’re my heart, my soul, and I’ll spend every last breath ensuring you feel loved, cherished, and safe.”

~Dr. Atticus Thorin, Night Shift

In the room’s silence, with only the soft hum of medical equipment for company, I poured out my heart to her unconscious form, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that she would somehow hear me, feel my love, and find her way back.

~Dr. Atticus Thorin, Night Shift

And when she’d met my eyes—when she’d chosen defiance, chosen provocation—something inside me detonated.

Not romance. Not tenderness.

Claim.

Possession.

A dark, ruthless certainty that she was going to be mine to protect, mine to keep, mine to ruin the world for if I had to. And she had no idea.

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy