It could be worse," he said finally. "Efrenia married an arsonist. Jake's wife is a kleptomaniac. I suppose, a psychopathic spree killer isn't that odd of a choice, considering.

Help me, I can’t breathe, your ego is pushing all the air out of the room.

There is no such thing as privacy between a deity and his worshipper. There are no secrets, no glossed-over failures. Only promises kept and abandoned, sins committed and imagined, and raw emotion. How many of us are ready to have our lives judged? What would happen if we were found wanting?

I'll call you," he repeated. "If you call me, I won't pick up the phone." "You will wait by the phone for my call, and when it rings, you will pick it up and you will speak to me in a civil manner. If you don't know how, ask someone.

At the door, Audrey called, "Are you coming?" "No, just breathing hard, love." He glanced at her and was rewarded by an outraged glare, followed by, "Oh, my God!

Cute. I think I would prefer to be stabbed in the eye rather than be called cute.

There was something very comforting about him, and I was not sure if it was his easy manner or his complete immunity to my scowling.