I closed my eyes. I forced myself to relax, to remember that here, now, and always, I was the predator.

Nope," he whispered, when I tried to tug it away. "Mine now.

The darkest minds never fade in the afterlight.

Real friends are hard to come by, and as annoying as Henry is, he'd throw himself in front of dragon's fire for you." "And that's the definition of a real friend?" "Oh, yes, just ask Owain." He laughed.

You're a wizard," I snapped. "Can't you just use magic to make your own food?" "Ah, yes," he retorted. "Because mud pies are so very delicious and the wind fills empty stomachs quite nicely.

You get a good review, and it’s like crack. You need another hit. And another. And another. I know authors are like Tinkerbell and generally need applause to survive, but it’s a slippery slope.

Breathing him in wasn't enough, I wanted to inhale him. The leather, the smoke, the sweetness.