See, when you lie to me it hurts," Rixon said, swiping an imaginary tear. "I thought we had something special. I thought our joint eternal sentences of damnation were our bond.

I was tired of admiring your legs from a distance.

He brushed my curls back off my face. “I never pictured my life so complete. I never thought I’d have everything I want. You’re everything to me, Angel.

I want Scott to look at me the way Patch looks at you.

Tell me what's going on here. Why can I hear your voice inside my head and why did you say you came to school for me?" "I was tired of admiring your legs from a distance.

You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal." The boy's dark eyes lifted, meeting Chauncey's. "Half fallen angel." Chauncey's tutor's voice drifted up from the recesses of his mind, reading passages from the Bible, telling of a deviant race created when angels cast from heaven mated with mortal women. A fearsome and powerful race. A chill that wasn't entirely revulsion crept through Chauncey. "Who are you?

And here I thought they were called Peeping Toms." I didn't need to see him to know he wore a smile. "Stop laughing," I said, my cheeks hot with humiliation. "Get me down." "Jump." "What?" "I'll catch you." "Are you crazy? Go inside and open the window. Or get a ladder." "I don't need a ladder. Jump. I'm not going to drop you.