"Leslie?" Irial whispered. "What are you doing?" "Choosing." Tears were soaking the blanket under Leslie's face. "I'm mine. Not anyone else's." "I'm still yours, though. That won't ever change, Shadow Girl." And then he was gone, and her emotions crashed over her."

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The trainee knew he should leave, but he was unable to look away. He'd never seen anything snap out so fast or strike so hard as the male's fists. Obviously, the rumours about the instructor were all true. He was a flat-out killer. With a metal clank, a door opened at the other end of the gym, and the sound of a newborn's cries echoed up into the high ceiling. The warrior stopped in midpunch and wheeled around as a lovely female carrying young in a pink blanket came over to him. His face softened, positively melted.

— J.R. Ward