I'm not good, Mac. Never have been.' What-true confession time? my eyes tease. Don't need it. 'I want what I want and I take it.' Is he warning me? What could he possibly threaten me with now? 'There's nothing I can't live with. Only things I won't live without.

He'd surely been spawned by some cataclysmic event of nature, not born.

Pretty girls don't have ugly mouths.

He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it. The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him.

When do these three days expire?" "That's what pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague." "The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it.

You are what you are. Find a way to live with it.

He was still frowning at the cake, looking at it as if he expected it to sprout dozens of legs and begin scuttling toward him, thin-lipped, teeth bared.