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If she were going to die, I'd already be screaming. I'm a female bean sidhe. That's what we do.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Bean
Screaming
Female
Already
Dies
Going
Banshees

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Kaylee and Nash are like those rocks that ancient cave people used to make fire. Bang them together, and you get sparks. Sabine said. Let's never again use the phrase 'bang them together' in reference to my brother and my girlfriend, Tod mumbled.
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So, did the costume come with a condom, or is that sold separately?
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He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.
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He sank into that kiss, and fed from me like a starving man holding off famine. I drank from his soul in preparation for the drought to come. And when he finally pulled away, my throat was thick with unspoken words, my heart heavy with every apology I'd ever denied him. But it was too late for promises. The time had come for goodbye.
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Had I just begged for an audience with Death?
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Sophie glanced from me to Sabine, then back, scowling. I'm not scared of her. I can handle myself. Yeah, and hissing kittens think they're badass too, Sabine said.
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Suggestions? I asked [...] Marc never took his gaze from the cage. Get the hose.
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Great. I'm psychotic and sparkly.
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I could have kissed you months ago, but it wouldn’t have meant anything. I wished for you to see me. And want me. So…did you mean it?” “Yes,” I said, and some unnamed tension inside me eased. “I see you, Tod.
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Because in most cases, I believe that people deserve a second chance. And because I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd stood by and let them both die souless, when I could have helped.
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Pain is what I feed from when nothing else will nourish the noxious fury in my heart. It’s what I cling to when everything else—everyone else—slips right between my grasping fingers.
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His safety was more important than anything to me. Even if he would never know enough to understand that.
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I've seen this episode. This is the one where Sylvester eats Tweety.
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I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.
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I'd just stepped out of the kiddie pool and into the deep end, with no floaties. And drowning was not an option.
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At least you don’t need a prescription for tequila.
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You already said that, Sabine said, folding the wrapper back from her burger. You said it a lot, actually. Which supports my theory that apologies are basically pointless. They don't fix anything, right? That's why I rarely bother.
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Some things are private. Some things needed to be said, even when the person who needed to hear them couldn’t hear anything. Ever again.
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Ask for the impossible, then settle instead for what you really wanted in the first place.
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I liked that about her. I liked how laid back she was, when she wasn’t trying to stab me.
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