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It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Addiction
Destructive
Self
Kind
Really
Pointless

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Anyway, I was the one in real danger. I got cornered by a pack of wild sorority girls in the food court. Apparently it's mating season.
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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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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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I don't want to wear your dad's clothes. He hates me. You'd rather wear mine? Nash scowled.
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How does Parker’s body compare with yours ” Great. A pop quiz I thought recognizing his transition into lecture mode. “How does Parker’s body compare with mine Hmm.” I gave Parker a quick theatrical once-over and he smiled clearly catching on to my line of thought. “Nice legs and killer biceps. But I have better boobs. No question.
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Not even if you fed me your firstborn, still wet and screaming
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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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Are you going to deliver whatever threat Avari sent you with, or are we going to have to start guessing? Tod said. I gotta warn you, I'm insanely good at charades.
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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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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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Wouldn't you be mad if I told you to give up on someone you cared about? Just... hand her over to someone who doesn't even deserve her? Tod gave me a strange, sad look I couldn't interpret, and the blues in his irises shifted subtly for a moment before he got control of them. Yeah. I guess I would.
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I couldn't see who swam in the darkness, who wore shadows like a second skin.
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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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Like I'm going to pass up an opportunity to smack your cousin.
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You don't know me. Don't ever think you know me. The only things you know about me are the things you made me do, and that illustrates your character, not mine.
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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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Unfortunately, unless the job description included a translation of the prologue of The Canterbury Tales, I was dreadfully under-qualified.
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The moment the door opened I knew an ass-kicking was inevitable. Whether I'd be giving it or receiving it was still a bit of a mystery.
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Maybe I won't look so bad when you're not standing next to me.
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