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I could take care of that obstacle for her - I'd tear down anything standing between us - but I couldn't destroy what I couldn't even see.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
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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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Standing, I turned to face my father. “It’s the same as the scent on Moore. It’s definitely a foreign cat, but it’s...more, somehow.” Ethan snickered at my unintentional pun, but I ignored him.
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Sorry, but the whole walking corpse epiphany kind of threw me off my game.
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It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?
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Regret couldn't fix what he's broken. Apologies couldn't bring back what he's lost. What we'd lost.
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Great. I'm psychotic and sparkly.
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Justice is for the victim.” Kick. “Vengeance is for the survivor.
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I’d learned that my mother was a badass in disguise. She was Van Helsing in an apron and heels, and—at least for the time being—I couldn’t think of a single thing cooler than that.
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Careful, pot, Tod said. Someone might notice your resemblance to the kettle.
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Why is this so hard?” I whispered. His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.
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Wow. What would you do if I said I was angry?' 'I would make fire rain from the heavens to smite your enemies with the flames of our shared rage.
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You know, most girls sleep with a teddy bear or an extra pillow. But I gotta say, that's kinda hot.
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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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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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Uh, yeah, I do. The scythe was a little tricky at first, but—much like golf—turns out it’s all in the swing.
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I'm not going to lose you, Kaylee. No matter what I have to do, or whom I have to fight. Even if that means quashing your vexing tendencies toward self-sacrifice. Did you just say 'vexing'? Nash asked. Tod scowled. Nothing else seemed to fit. I stand by my word choice.
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If I weren't already dead, I'd be alive with joy.
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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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I mean, creatures who only exist in the dark don't know they're missing the sun, right? But once you've seen the sun. Once you've seen it light up the world ... once you've felt its heat all around you ... inside you ... He clutched his own chest, and my heart cracked open. Its hard to live in the dark after the sun dies.
Rachel Vincent