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I decided the Alchemists needed an entire department devoted to handling Adrian Ivashkov.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Devoted
Department
Entire
Decided
Needed
Alchemists
Adrian
Alchemist
Handling

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Emerald green eyes studied us from a face that could have been sculpted by one of the classical artists I so admired. Shocked, I dismissed the comparison as soon as it popped into my head. This was a vampire, after all. It was ridiculous to admire him the way I would some hot human guy.
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A ghostly smile flickered across his face. If you weren't so psychotic, you'd be fun to hang around. Funny, I feel that way about you too. He didn't say anything else, but the smile grew, and he walked away.
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How we love others is affected by how we love ourselves, and for the first time in a long time, I was whole.
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Every relationship is different. Everyone loves differently.
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Is Hopper celebrating with you?” “Hopper? Why would—” My mouth snapped shut for a few moments. “Oh. I, uh, kind of forgot about him.
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I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I love you.
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No, I can just read you. Finally. I can't believe how blind I was. I can't believe I never noticed. Victor's comment...he was right. She glanced off at the sunset, then turned her gaze back on me. A flash of anger, both in her feelings and her eyes, hit me. Why didn't you tell me? she cried. Why didn't you tell me you loved Dimitri?
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Not true,” said Adrian. “All guys mean the same thing when they want to ‘get to know a girl better.’ You’re a wellbred young lady, so I understand why you’d be too innocent to understand. Good thing you’ve got me here to interpret.
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Life’s like that. As we grow and change, some things we’ve experience before take on new meaning. It’ll happen for the rest of your life.
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Nice blouse, Sage,” Adrian told me, deadpan. “It really brings out the khaki in your pants.
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Is Adrian here?” “Who?” “Adrian. Tall. Brown hair. Green eyes.” She frowned. “Do you mean Jet?” “I … I’m not sure. Does he smoke like a chimney?” The girl nodded sagely. “Yup. You must mean Jet.
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You're beautiful, Roza. So beautiful it hurts me.
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This is insane, I said blankly. I'm the instrument of an all-powerful primordial deity's wave of chaos and destruction. That's kind of extreme said Dante jovially. It's not like you work for Google or anything.
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I’m not dangerous,” I breathed. He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.” And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing.
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I hadn't gotten far when I ran into Mason. Good God. Men everywhere.
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