Vic pointed at him, two finger-guns of approval. “I like a man who knows the value of words, doesn’t spend ’em too cheap.” Ranulf nodded. “That is the manner in which I roll.

Is this what it means to die? Lucas thought. Because I’m not scared of it anymore. Not if it means I finally get this close to you.

I know we only talked once-" "But it meant something to you." Our eyes met for only an instant. "It meant something to me, too. I just didn't realize - Well, I thought it was only me.

I’m going, and don’t you dare try to stop me.” I ran through the door, willing myself to make it downstairs before I started to cry.

Vic nudged my elbow with his. "You and me are still friends, right? You guys get a joint custody in the divorce. Generous visitations rights." "Divorce?" Despite myself, I laughed. Only Vic could call the aftermath of a bad first date a divorce. We hadn't exactly been friends beforehand, so "still" was an exaggeration, but it would've been mean to point that out. Besides, I liked Vic. "We're still friends." "Excellent. The weirdos have to stick together around here." "Are you calling me a weirdo?" "Highest honor I can bestow.

That is the manner in which I roll.

But do you want this? It's not much of a life. Don't you see? It's the first life I've had in four hundred years. With you--in the only way that matters--I'm alive again.