It was clear they weren’t getting any information out of Ian tonight. She, Bones, and Cat followed as Spade supported Ian, almost carrying him up the stairs to then dump him on the bed in a guest room. “Before you go, mate, turn on the telly. Something raunchy, too. Think I’ll rub one off before I sleep.

Bones has always been smart," I muttered. "His intelligence was just camouflaged under a mountain of p**sy." Cat

I’d relived enough terrible events happening to cautious people to know that prudence wasn’t a guarantee for happiness.

Revenge was the emptiest of emotions. Apparently it motivated people to do the stupidest things as well.

Since this was a formal undead gathering, there would be food—all kinds—drinks, dancing, and festivities, while those in power pondered whether or not to slaughter half the people around them. In other words, like a high-school prom.

I have been stabbed, shot, burned, bitten, beaten unconscious too many times to count, and even staked. None of those held a candle to the pain I felt at seeing his mouth on hers.

Note to self: Don't get on Veritas's bad side. She holds a grudge for centuries.