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

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.

Change your mind about playing doctor?" "No, but I hear candy-striper uniforms are pretty cute.

I'm dead, not impotent. Nasty rumors like that must be squashed before they gain momentum. Feel free to emphasize how very functional I am.

What matters is the face you show the world, not the quaking mess behind it.

I could take care of that obstacle for her - I'd tear down anything standing between us - but I couldn't destroy what I couldn't even see.

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