She attempted to turn again; I held on. I wasn't holding tight enough to keep her, but she wasn't pulling hard enough to get away.

This time, it was more of a thought than a feeling, a soft heat that began at her mouth and unfurled through the rest of her.

The tourists always seem to want something. On Thisby, it's less about wanting, and more about being." I wonder after I say it if he'll think I sound like have no drive or ambition.

All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.

Ronan kept staring at Whelk. He was good at staring. There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.

There's a metaphor for the American public in here," Gansey murmered darkly, "but it escapes me at the moment.

I remember lying in the snow, a small red spot of warm going cold, surrounded by wolves.