There is black. There is white. Gray is a cowardly excuse to mix our wants with our needs.

Death and blood didn’t turn on a vampire. Fear and the chance to take blood did. There was a difference.

Elves apparently had a short childhood. Not like witches, who seemed to take forever to grow up, according to Jenks.

Rachel, you take her,” my mother said, clearly uncomfortable. “She might like you.” “No. Mom, no!” I protested, but it was my mother we were talking about, and it was either take the baby or have her hit the floor.

I like the second better, but the first fits with the vampire watching what she can’t have.” I blinked. “What he can’t have,” I amended, flushing.

People die, Rachel," Ceri said, her cheeks flushing. "Not if I can help it," I snapped. "And not of a broken heart. If you could, I'd be dead already.

You try getting through the Hollows traffic with a stoned redhead hanging out the window shouting, 'I'm king of the world!' ~Lee