Are you keeping anything else from me?” “I’m keeping a lot of things from you.” “Like?” “Like the way I feel about being locked up in here with you. You have no idea what you do to me.

The Archangel." I murmured. looking back over my shoulder at the ride, which had started its next ascent. "It means high-ranking angel." There was a definite smugness to his voice. "The higher up, the harder the fall.

That’s an unfortunate place for a birthmark,” I said, more than a little unnerved that it was so similarly positioned to my own scar. Patch casually but noticeably slid his sleeve down over his wrist. “You’d prefer it someplace more private?” “I wouldn’t prefer it anywhere.” I wasn’t sure how this sounded and tried again. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t have it at all.” I tried a third time. “I don’t care about your birthmark, period.

Religion?" I asked more firmly. Patch dragged a hand thoughtfully along the line of his jaw. "Not religion ... cult." "You belong to a cult?" I realized too late that while I sounded surprised, I shouldn't have. "As it turns out, I'm in need of a healthy female sacrifice. I'd planned on luring her into trusting me first, but if you're ready now...

Patch smiled. “You come by your red hair naturally?” I stared at him. “I don’t have red hair.” “I hate to break it to you, but it’s red. I could light it on fire and it wouldn’t turn any redder.

You should go," I breathed. "You should definitely go." "Go here?" His mouth was on my shoulder. "Or here?" It moved up my neck.

When I'm wasted, I can almost forget who I am," he said, his smile fading slightly. "I know I'm still there, but only barely. It's a good place to be." He tipped back the thermos, eyes on the dark sea straight ahead