They don’t eat that much.” “In comparison to what? Starving marines?

You decent?” I pulled the towel up a little higher. “Yes, if my wrinkled toes don’t offend.” Marco’s swarthy head popped around the doorjamb. “Naw, they’re cute.

Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.

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

Trash can!” Pritkin cursed and grabbed one, just about the time everything I’d eaten that night paid a repeat visit. Whiskey, pizza, milk shake, beer-and a lone, half-dissolved gummy bear, which was a surprise, since I couldn’t actually recall having eaten any. Fun times.

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

Let me get this straight. First you decide I'm a demon because of a power I didn't ask for and don't even understand. Then when that falls through you label me a fallen sybil and a ho. Am I missing something or do you just not like me