Behind me, Marc made a soft whistling sound, clearly impressed. “That’s not standard procedure,” he said, his tone entirely too reasonable as he leaned over the stray’s body to open the back passenger-side door. “Yeah, well, I’m not your standard enforcer.

Sometimes I suspected Ryan was merely visiting the real world, on vacation from his permanent residence in la-la land.

Leave the door open," my dad said, the second most common warning in his arsenal. Right behind, "Nash, go home.

I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.

So what does Tod look like? Whitewashed skeleton skulking around in a black cape and hood? Carrying a scythe? 'Cause I'm thinking that would cause mass panic in the hospital." ..... "Do you chase after a funeral processions in a long, dirty dress, hair trailing behind you in the wind? I shot him a mock frown. "Have you been following me again?

Why is this so hard?” I whispered. His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.

Sophie glanced from me to Sabine, then back, scowling. "I'm not scared of her. I can handle myself." "Yeah, and hissing kittens think they're badass too," Sabine said.