Burn, baby, burn,” she muttered in a hard, satisfied voice. I cleared my throat. “As much as I hate to interrupt the supreme satisfaction you’re taking in watching the mansion blaze to the ground, I’d really like to get out of here before the whole house collapses on top of us.

Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.

Her touch was as soft as a snowflake falling onto my skin.

Come on, Gypsy girl. I'm bleeding to death here, in case you haven't noticed. At least make it worth my while and kiss me before I die.

My name is Gin, and I kill people.

Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!

Just another part of that Spartan killer instinct. I can slay the ladies just as well as I can reapers.