Not really hungry." "She’ll eat." Pritkin said curtly. "I said —" "If you starve to death it would damage my professional reputation." "I eat plenty." "The same does not apply should I strangle you in understandable irritation, however." "I’ll have a sandwich," I told Nick. "No meat.

Pritkin kissed like he did everything else, straightforward, accepting no prisoners and with an intensity that left me breathless. It was hot and hard and desperate, like he was starving for it, and I opened my mouth and took it, because, God.

I’d have been dead a long time ago if not for my friends, one of whom had just jumped off the cliff after me. I’d have been a lot more appreciative if he hadn’t pushed me first." ~Cassandra Palmer

Where. Is. He?" Alphonse repeated, although it sounded more like "Don't make me eat your face.

Can we just do this?” Ray asked tightly, clinging to Zheng’s already slightly elongated arm. Because Louis-Cesare wasn’t the only one with a master power around here. “Let go,” Zheng told him. “I’m the rubber band; you’re the spitball. And spitballs don’t hold on to rubber bands.” “Die in a fire,” Ray told him savagely. But he let go.

If I'm not supposed to be awake, why are you here?" I mumbled. "To be the little spoon.

I left it with a warmer,” he said drily. Because war mages ate their fried chicken frozen to the ground and they liked it.