There was something striking about her posture; something about the tilt to her head. She was like a beautiful and lonely piece of art, lovely but unreachable.

Watch for the devil. When there’s a god, there’s always a legion of devils.

Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.

Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his. With a guilty little smile he pulled my hand toward his nose and took a sniff and then another one. His smile widened though it was still shy. It was absolutely adorable and my breath got caught somewhere in my throat.

Cole grasped a handful of vials and syringes with one hand and dumped them on the island in front of me. They rolled and whirled in misshapen circles on the counter surface. "Here are our options." My ears rang. "We have more than one?" "Three, precisely," Cole said. He pointed to each in turn. "That one makes you a wolf. That one makes me a wolf. That one gives us both seizures.

Then Maura made something with butter and Calla made something with bacon and Blue steamed broccoli in self-defense.

Did no one tell him that pain lives in this sand, dug in and watered with our blood?