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He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Reapers
Rasputin
Reaper
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Near-death experiences release a lot of endorphins, resulting in a natural high, Tod whispered. And it's totally true that one passion feeds another. You know we're way past 'near-death', right? My endorphins aren't listening to you.
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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.
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I realized that I'd rather die with you than live with someone else.
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... you just turned down the woman who put a marshmallow duck in your hot chocolate. I hope you feel like a real asshole now.
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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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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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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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And I met Madeline's necromancer. His name's Luca. A death detector? Tod made a face. That's creepy. It gets weirder. He's dating Sophie. On purpose?
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I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.
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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.
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You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.
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Well that's too bad, because this is an assassination. No, this is an execution. The difference would be...? Assassination is murder. Execution is justice.
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Her dark-eyed glare narrowed on me. You could have least given him a shirt, Kaylee. Like you're an expert on when it's appropriate to wear a shirt. Sabine bristled. This seems headed into girl-fight territory, Tod said. Should I make popcorn?
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If I weren't already dead, I'd be alive with joy.
Rachel Vincent
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Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.
Rachel Vincent
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I laughed and it almost felt good. Is that a dig at my liquor cabinet? Cam smiled. That wasn't liquor, it was swill. And that wasn't a cabinet, it was a drawer.
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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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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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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 you so badly I can’t stand it. When you left, it felt like the world got darker. Like I couldn’t truly see anything. Couldn’t feel anything.
Rachel Vincent