Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.

Some day soon, reaper, your mouth is going to be the source of your own destruction." "That does seem likely, doesn’t it?" Tod glanced at me and shrugged. "Until then, it remains a source of my own amusement.

You think I need to be rescued?" "I think it doesn't hurt to let someone else do the rescuing every now and then, when your own armor starts to get banged up.

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

Have I ever told you how sexy your brain is?" "Finally! A man who wants me for my brain." "I want all of you. Each individual part and the sum of them all. I want you for everything you are and everything you will ever be. I will never have enough of you, because there's no such thing." He stared right into my eyes, and I couldn't have looked away if I'd wanted to. I was trapped, and never in my life had I been so happy to be caught. "I will never let you go again.

I should have said something. ... But my mouth wouldn't open, and the longer I stood there in silence, the better I can to understand the problem. It wasn't that I had nothing to say to him. It was that I had too much to say.

So, 'reaper' is really just a nice word for 'covert pervert?' Is that what you're saying?