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Had I just begged for an audience with Death?

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Begged
Audience
Death

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Then strong, warm arms wrapped around me from behind. I've got you, Tod whispered in my ear.
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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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He’s not like you, Tod. Aside from a couple of notable exceptions, you tend to think things through, but Nash is ruled by his heart—
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I fell into that kiss like Alice into Wonderland, headfirst and flailing, heart pounding the whole time. The world spun around me and still I fell, and I only crashed down to earth again when someone called my name.
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Not that I don't appreciate the rescue, Holt said. But I'm forced to ask, in the interest of self-preservation ... exactly how well armed are you right now?
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I should have said something. ... But my mouth wouldn't open, and the longer I stood there in silence, the better I can to understand the problem. It wasn't that I had nothing to say to him. It was that I had too much to say.
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Jace. This can't happen. I closed my eyes, thinking it would be easier to say without him looking back at me. But it wasn't. This isn't about us. I can't leave Marc.
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Nash has been the sun lighting up the horizon of my life, outshining everything else in my world. I'd thought once that he was to good to be true. Turns out I was right.
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Wow, Liv said, when I dropped the mallet back into the drawer. That looked like fun. I call dibs on the next over-the-top destruction of evidence.
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Why do I always have to be the one who says 'stop'? I demanded, my voice little more than a moan. You don't. In fact, at this point I'm considering a petition to that word stricken from the English language. His grin was almost lazy, the gleam in his eyes an effortless challenge. If I did, would you sign?
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I want you. I want only you. I want all of you. But I'll take whatever you're ready to give.
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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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If I love you more than you love me, I’m as good as dead. Yet I can’t make myself take it back. I can’t just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I’m dying inside.
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I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.
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What could thunderbirds want with us? I wondered aloud [...] We'll find out when Big Bird wakes up, Marc said. My father shook his head. We'll find out now. Wake him up and make him sing.
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A cat’s body can sustain a lot of damage without actually dying,” Lucas said, his voice as deep as the rumble of the earth itself. “You just think about that before you so much as scratch yourself without permission.” Ryan gulped and nodded, still mute.
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But if there was a protocol for how to say goodbye to your newly ex-boyfriend's brother, right after you kissed him and probably sent your ex into the arms of his willing ex-girlfriend, I didn't know what it was.
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As a matter of fact, I was going to offer you something.” “What did you have in mind?” A field trip. You interested in doing something dangerous, and possibly illegal?” “Does it involve underage girls, broken curfews and assorted fruit toppings?
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Now if you’ll excuse me, Death waits for no man. Except me.
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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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