She's not your type. Since when do I have a type?

The demon's eyes flicked to mine, his smile widening. "This is Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos's room," he said, and my breath caught. "Delightful, just delightful! What are you doing in Nicky's room, Rachel? Ooooh, he summoned you to the West Coast, didn't he? Did you kill him? Good for you for taking care of that little problem! I should give you a bunny. Where is he? Stuffed in a closet?" ~ Algaliarept, Black Magic Sanction, Kim Harrison

I could sit and watch nature documentaries with Jenks and the kids the rest of the night if I wanted. And trust me, watching a dozen pixies scream as a crocodile chomped on a zebra was something not to be missed. They invariably cheered for the crocodile, not the zebra.

Shouts of dismay rose as the red flesh splattered against the table. It was only a tomato, but one would think I was pulping a decaying heart by the noise the big, strong FIB officers were making.

He froze as the scent of her hair met him. It was touching his cheek,tickling him. I cant afford this, he thought, but he didnt move, watching her finger trace the new line. "He cracked my mirror,"she said, clearly angry.

His eyes met mine at the soft touch, and a chime seemed to shake the ley line, realigning the universe. He was mine.

One person can't hold anything, but two can have the world.