I'll just ask now: What is it about my persona that draws every insane, power-hungry nutcase to me like a magnet?

Every once in a while, I'll have a 'Do you know who I am?' moment, at least in my head. I hate that.

I looked into her eyes. "Mom, who do you pray to?" I just pray, Daniel. That's all.

Fang’s hand gently smoothed my hair off my neck. My breath froze in my chest, and every sense seemed hyperalert. His hand stroked my hair again, so softly, and then trailed across my neck and shoulder and down my back, making me shiver. I looked up. “What the heck are you doing?” “Helping you change your mind,” he whispered, and then he leaned over, tilted my chin up, and kissed me.

Jane-Sweetie, we've talked about your weight-" my mother began. I'm only eight years old," I said. "How about I promise to be anorexic later?

She didn't flirt with him, but they hung out together a lot, and every time I saw their heads bent over a computer screen or map, it made my stomach clench. And my teeth. And my fists.

I never miss a good chance to shut up