Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face!" [...] "I get that you're angry—," said Patch. "I am ripped apart!" I shouted.

Since we're keeping it primal, you smell good," he observed. "It's called a shower...," I began automatically, then trailed off. My memory snagged, taken aback by a compelling and forceful sense of undue familiarity. "Soap, shampoo, hot water," I added, almost as an afterthought. "Naked. I know the drill," Jev said, something unreadeble passing over his eyes.

men are attracted to beauty because it indicates health and youth—no point mating with a sickly woman who won’t be around to raise the children.

He cracked a slight smile, but it didn’t look amused. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You’re looking a little deranged, Angel. We’ll go together.

For someone who’s made it clear that her life is superior to every other student’s at this school, you sure make it a habit of pursuing every facet of our boring, worthless lives.

Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered. “Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me

Love the hair. Love when it’s out of control. It’s like seeing a side of you that needs to come out more often.