‘Not drinking?’ Collin asked coolly. ‘I only drink the blood of virgins,’ Logan quipped. ‘You must be dehydrated then.’ A slow smile spread over Logan’s face. ‘A sense of humor… rare in a Templar.’

‘How old were you when you realized you were… different?’ Logan opened his mouth, then smiled slyly, ‘What sort of different? Gay different, magic different, or just plain fucked-in-the-head-crazy different?’ Collin bit back a smile...