I love you, and you're the measure of my wrath. Declan.

Secret to what?" "Secret to shutting you up," he said. "I just have to beat you till you're half-dead, then give you chicken soup and"--he raised his hands--"blessed silence.

Yes, I'm too mad to punish you right now. We'll talk about it when we get home. Go brush your teeth, comb your hair, put on dry clothes, and get the guns. We're going to Wal-Mart.

William strode to her. That’s how it’s done. Drink it in. She surveyed the carnage behind him. “Did you have fun?” He showed her his teeth. “Yes. Now they won’t take you anywhere.” Cerise stepped closer to him, so close he only needed to lean in and dip his head and he would kiss her. Since he saved her, maybe he could just grab her and— “That was the stupidest thing you have done since I’ve met you,” she ground out through her teeth. Belay the grabbing.

Perhaps I just wasn't scary enough. Maybe I should invest in some horns or fangs.

When a lion stalks a herd, he sneaks in close, lies down, and surveys them to choose his victim. He takes his time. The deer or buffalo have no idea he’s near. He finds his prey and then he explodes from his hiding place and grabs it. Even if another, perfectly serviceable animal ends up within his reach, he isn’t going to alter his course. He has chosen, and he would rather go hungry than change his mind.

I can't hate people that much. Don't get me wrong. I want to murder every last Keeper I can find. But that's not hate. That's vengeance.