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This would be so much easier if they actually issued black hoods.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Hoods
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Some day soon, reaper, your mouth is going to be the source of your own destruction. That does seem likely, doesn’t it? Tod glanced at me and shrugged. Until then, it remains a source of my own amusement.
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So could we please not mob the three-thousand-plus-year-old reaper like tweens at a boy-band concert?
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I don't have you, and without you, it feels like what I do have doesn't matter.
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Radley rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at my father. Alpha of the south-central territory and head of the Territorial Council. Sure, I did that all the time but I'd also peed on his lap when I was two. No one else got away with such disrespect toward an Alpha, which meant Radley either didn't know who my father was, or didn't care
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It's kind of like when a clock battery runs down. The hour and minute hands don't disappear, but they don't keep ticking either. They freeze on the last minute they measured.
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Screw this. He’d blown his shot at nice-and-easy, which only left quick-and-brutal—my favorite way to play.
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If you want to call yourself my friend, you should know that position comes with boundaries. Sabine frowned. I'm no good with boundaries. Yes, and the ocean is damp. Can we be done with the understatements now?
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In the end, it only comes down to one thing: choosing the one you can’t live without.
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Even before the withdrawal sets in, you'll do anything to get that feeling back, because as long as it lasts, nothing's wrong. It doesn't matter if you forget something, or lose something. Or if you fail someone. Nothing's wrong and everything feels good, and you never want it to end.
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I love you, Olivia, he whispered, and my heart ached as if it would break in half. You think we'll die if we stay together, but I've been dying slowly for the last six years. I'm taking my life back, Liv. Our life together. And this time, I'm not going to let you go.
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Had I just begged for an audience with Death?
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It's suspiciously quiet in here, and there's a Tod shaped dent in the bean bag. For the sake of both my sanity and my temper, I'm going to pretend I can't tell that you're in his lap, so could you pretend that this is still my house and you are still my daughter, and I'm within my parental rights to kick your boyfriend out after 11:00 p.m.?
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Now if you’ll excuse me, Death waits for no man. Except me.
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So, we wait until tomorrow night, and when you say the word, I cross over and haul you both out. Right? That's it? With any luck, yes. Luck? We were depending on luck? Nash is so screwed.
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But I had no plans to end my own life, and accidents couldn't be predicted. Neither could murder, unless my aunt and uncle were planning to take me out themselves.
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There was just no good way for a dead son to greet his mother almost two weeks after his funeral.
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Did you think you could dump me, and I'd bounce back to her and miraculously be happy? I'm not a Ping-Pong ball. You can't just swat me back and forth and expect me to be content wherever I land. If Tod dumped you tomorrow, would you come back to me?
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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.
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Should I assume the lure is a certain attractive young dead man?
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But my hands are in the right place. Heart, I corrected. Your heart's in the right place. Yeah, but my hands are in an even better place. And so they were.
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