I scooted over, patting the bed next to me. "No such luck. And now you get to watch forty straight hours of Easton Heights with me!" He turned on the first disk, shaking his head, then got onto the bed next to me. "Small price to pay for getting to hold your hand." I wasn't cold anymore.

Eyes like streams of melting snow, cold with the things she does not know. Heaven above and Hell beneath, liquid flames to hide her grief. Death, death, death with no release. Death, death, death with no release.

She stared at him in that vapid, intoxicated way employed only by women under a vamp's control. Or the way I sometimes got when faced with cupcakes. Mmm. Cupcakes.

Evie? Evie! Ouch!" Jack yanked his hand out of mine,shaking it and glaring at me. "I need these fingers later.

If he wakes up, I swear I’ll do anything. I’ll open gates, I’ll help all the paranormals, I’ll never judge people wearing Crocs again. Just let him wake up. Please.

Soap operas got nothing on my family history.

Can't he be lonely and unbalanced around someone else's girlfriend?